


What a Catch

by energyboyeric



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Alternate Universe - High School, Approximately one half of this occurs in a diner owned by johnny, Attempt at Humor, Baseball, Comedy, Fluff, High School, Humor, It's adorable ok, Lee Jeno & Na Jaemin Are Best Friends, Lee Jeno-centric, M/M, Mark Lee & Wong Yuk Hei | Lucas Are Best Friends, Married Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Lee Taeyong, Minor Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Mark Lee, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Taeyong is their coach, Team Bonding, Team Feels, Yangyang and Ten are siblings, aggressive bullying of the nct official color bc they really do be some neon grass, and it's iconic, bongsik is the true main character, i hope anyways we'll see, this is baseball chaos, this is going to be so much longer than intended uh oh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:55:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 35,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28519734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/energyboyeric/pseuds/energyboyeric
Summary: Jeno is just trying to help his team finally win the league championships when a certain Huang Renjun waltzes into his life with his ever-present notepad, his unending sass, his ridiculously cute face, and most importantly, a problem: Renjun needs to cover this year's baseball season for the school paper, but he doesn't know shit about baseball.This, apparently, is where Jeno comes into play.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno
Comments: 53
Kudos: 138





	1. “Are we like, positive nobody spiked his milkshake, though.”

**Author's Note:**

> this. this started out as a luwoo hockey au. and now it's a noren baseball au, don't even ask how. Anyways, i'm going to provide a quick index of everybody on the team's year and position so that it's clear, and i'm not too good at explaining the aspects of the game so i hope this isn't too confusing?? idk i think it's pretty straightforward. 
> 
> Jeno (junior): catcher  
> Mark (senior): pitcher, captain  
> Yukhei (senior): 3rd base  
> Jaemin (junior): shortstop  
> Donghyuck (junior): 1st base, backup pitcher  
> Sungchan (sophomore): right field  
> Yangyang (freshman): left field  
> Jisung (freshman): 2nd base
> 
> yes i don't have a center fielder what about it, it's fine, i was gonna give it to chenle but renjun needs SOME friends ok

The sun beats down on the field, hovering high in the noontime sky. 

The repetitive sound of a ball hitting a glove with a resounding _thwack_ seems to echo all around as a team in green uniforms warms up before their first game of the season, the baseballs flying between them a distraction from their nerves.

Jeno crouches behind the plate, maintaining steady eye contact with Mark as he winds up and throws a perfect pitch right into the center of his glove, stirring up some dust from the leather as it hits. He grins at the pitcher, throwing him a thumbs up- _we’ve still got it,_ he’s saying- and tosses the ball back to him to do it all over again. 

“Oh, _shit!_ ” Yukhei’s apologetic shout carries across the field. “Sorry!” Jeno glances over to find Donghyuck rolling his eyes from where he stands by first base, and Yukhei looking sheepish at third. Their third baseman has a habit of underestimating his strength and height and sending the ball soaring over poor Donghyuck’s head; at least Sungchan gets a workout retrieving all of the stray balls that make it into right field as a result, right?

Mark shrugs at Jeno and sends another perfect curveball flying into his glove, and Jeno decides he wouldn’t have things any other way. 

Their coach waves them in for a final team huddle before the game officially starts, and Jeno pulls off his helmet to run up to him with the rest of the team. Coach Lee is young- he went to school with Yangyang’s older brother- but Jeno knows that he was a star player back in his days on the team.

“Okay, Neos,” he says, “remember what we went over at practice. Yukhei, _please_ try to keep your throws to first under control-”

“I’ll try my best, Coach.”

“-on that note, Sungchan, always be on the lookout for wild throws, will you?”

“Always am, Coach.” Sungchan salutes him solemnly. 

“Donghyuck, just. . . try your best to catch them. Jump, if you really need to.”

“Like a kangaroo,” Donghyuck assures him. 

“Yangyang and Jisung, try not to let the nerves get to you. You’re freshmen, but you’re decent players, do _not_ crack under the pressure.” 

“Very reassuring,” Jisung mumbles under his breath, exchanging a terrified look with Yangyang.

“And Mark, you and Jeno have everything covered, right? I trust you two will work together well.”

Jeno and Mark perform a complicated handshake that ends in a high-five as if to show just how well they work together. 

“Anything else to add,” Coach Lee puts a hand on Mark’s shoulder, “captain?” Mark’s eyes widen, not used to being put on the spot like that. A series of whoops and cheers for their newly elected captain rise from the huddle, and Yukhei claps Mark on the back so hard he almost falls over. 

“Uh,” Mark says, “well, we-”

“ _WOO_!” 

“ _Good speech, Captain!_ ” Yukhei jumps on Mark’s shoulders, and then sends him plummeting to the ground because Yukhei is like half a foot taller than Mark. 

“Wait,” Mark wheezes, “I wasn’t _done-_ ”

Coach Lee grimaces like he’s not entirely sure why he’s still here, and then gently sends them off to take up their positions in the field. Before he pulls his mask back on, Jeno pulls Mark aside. 

“How nervous are you, man?” 

“Oh,” Mark laughs a high, stressed-out laugh, “oh, _extremely._ Why did you guys let me be captain again?” 

“Because everybody on the team looks up to you, dumbass,” Jeno tells him seriously, “ _and_ you’re the best pitcher this team has seen for years.” 

“That’s not true, Donghyuck-”

“-Is our first baseman before our pitcher for a reason,” Jeno reminds him gently. “You were throwing perfect pitches in warmups, just. . . do the same thing again!” Mark gives Jeno an uncertain look, playing with the stitches on his glove like he does when he’s nervous. “All you have to focus on is getting the ball to me,” Jeno reminds him, “that’s it.” 

“How can you be so _calm?_ ” Mark stares at Jeno incredulously. 

“Because I trust you,” Jeno grins at Mark, “ _captain._ ” 

Mark lets out a deep breath, closing his eyes for a moment. “You’re right,” he says, awkwardly patting Jeno on the shoulder as he makes his way to the mound in the center of the field, “thanks, dude.” 

“Anytime.” 

Jeno takes up his place behind the plate once more, feeling the adrenaline rush through him as the first member of the opposing team steps up to bat. If he could hear Yangyang right now, who’s waiting anxiously in left field, he’d probably be complaining about how the Tigers’ orange uniforms do _not_ match their green ones at all. Of course it’s their luck that they’d have to play against such a formidable opponent in their first game, since the Tigers are known throughout the league to be a tough team to beat, but Jeno thinks they can do it. 

The Tiger in front of him taps the plate once with his bat, and Jeno can see Mark’s lips moving as he silently mutters some kind of prayer before winding up for his first pitch. 

The batter swings, and the pitch whistles by just below his bat. 

“ _Strike!_ ” 

Jeno throws the ball back to Mark, who shakes out his throwing arm in an attempt to rid himself of his nerves. 

Mark pitches again. 

“ _Strike!_ ” 

Jeno mouths a ‘ _one more’_ to him as he returns the ball this time. Mark gives him a minuscule nod, the corners of his lips quirking up, and a Jeno knows he feels the adrenaline too, because for all his pre-game anxiety, Mark loves to play just as much as Jeno, maybe more. 

He winds up again, throwing a pitch that curves slightly into Jeno’s glove. The batter swings and misses for a third time. 

“ _Out!_ ”

The Tiger grumbles something to himself as he retreats back to his team’s dugout, and another player steps up to bat. 

This time, when Mark throws, the bat hits the ball with a resounding clang. 

Jisung darts out, nimbly scooping up the ball and tossing it to Donghyuck just as the Tiger’s foot touches first base. Everybody looks to the umpire anxiously. 

“ _Safe!_ ” 

Donghyuck looks like he could argue, but Coach Lee makes an aggressive _zip it_ motion from where he’s standing by their dugout. 

Jeno knows the drill by now, knows when to check on the player at first, knows when to threaten to throw the ball to Jisung at second in case he tries to steal it. It’s kind of a lot of things to think about, all while catching Mark’s pitches and silently signaling him to change it up when he needs to, but that’s sort of why he likes being catcher, anyways. Like Coach Lee had told him after dumping all the gear and padding into his hands when he was a freshman, he has some semblance of control over the whole game, and that’s pretty cool. 

The next batter hits the ball into the outfield, Yangyang missing catching it by a hair’s breadth, and they manage to score one run. 

When their team finally retreats to their dugout to take their turn at bat, there’s a commotion as everybody tosses their gloves haphazardly on the bench and Coach Lee posts the batting order. Sure enough, Yangyang is animatedly telling Jisung about how orange and neon green don’t go together at _all,_ while Yukhei and Donghyuck are bickering over whether folding your pizza when you eat it makes it a taco (don’t ask). Jeno, already sweating, pulls off his padding and runs a hand through his hair, unable to hold back his smile as he listens to the team’s chatter. 

It feels like home.

“Hey,” Jeno says as he sits down next to Sungchan, who hums a greeting. 

“Feels good to be back,” Sungchan admits, his dimples showing. “I’m. . . glad I _came_ back, actually. I almost joined the basketball team this year instead.” He grimaces. 

“I mean, you have the height for it,” Jeno offers, “but I like seeing you in right field. Who _else_ would put up with how many overthrows you get?” 

Sungchan laughs. “True.” 

Jeno watches Donghyuck step up to the plate first, flaunting his usual relaxed swagger, swinging his bat in circles before holding it at the ready. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Mark scoff, muttering something that sounds like ‘ _typical_ ’. 

The Tigers’ pitcher is good, but not as precise as Mark. When Donghyuck swings he hits the ball hard onto the ground, rocketing through their infield. Donghyuck takes off, touching first base and running to second even when Coach Lee bellows for him to go back. He makes it anyways, if by a narrow margin. 

Yukhei bats next and hits a pop fly that the Tigers’ shortstop catches easily. 

“Sorry,” he mumbles bashfully when he returns. 

* * *

Before they all know it, they’ve won, and Yukhei is tackling Mark in a massive hug _again,_ and Jaemin and Jisung are chanting an off-key rendition of _All Star,_ and Coach Lee somehow looks amused and displeased and proud all at the same time. 

“See?” Jeno mutters to Mark as he helps him up from the ground (Yukhei continues to refuse to acknowledge just how _big_ he is). “You’re a good captain.” 

“Our _favorite_ captain,” Jaemin adds, throwing an arm around Mark’s shoulders, “ever. In the whole wide world. And do you know what the _best captain_ would do for us?” Jaemin wiggles his eyebrows, and Mark sighs as all eyes land on him. 

“What?” 

“Buy us all dinner!” Jaemin announces happily, beaming at the team, “isn’t that right, guys?” 

“THAT’S RIGHT!” 

“Mark’s buying us dinner?” 

“Oh God, marry me now, cap-”

Just as Mark is shoving his face in Jeno’s shoulder and groaning something about saving money for college tuition, Coach Lee cuts in, pain in his eyes. 

“Let’s not bully Mark.” He sighs, running an exasperated hand down his face. “Dinner’s on _me_ tonight, but for the rest of the season, you guys are on your own.” 

“ _Aw,_ Coach _loves us!_ ” Yangyang exclaims, and he and Jisung wrap their arms around him on either side. 

Coach Lee looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, but begrudgingly begins to make his way to his car with Yangyang attached to his leg. Jeno knows that he does harbor some kind of affection for the team, maybe buried under a layer of gruffness, but there all the same. 

Half of them pile into Coach’s car and half in Yukhei’s battered maroon minivan (named Cheryl), and they drive the short distance to the diner they usually eat at after games. 

Jeno is shoved in between Jaemin and Yangyang in the back row of Coach’s pickup truck, watching the sun set outside and listening to some pop song playing softly over the radio. They’re all a little dusty, a little sweaty, but Coach Lee and his _extremely_ tolerant husband have long since succumbed to the unending storm of dirt that never seems to leave their poor vehicle. They’re basically like Jeno’s second set of parents at this point. 

Jaemin’s arm is wrapped lazily around Jeno’s and Yangyang’s shoulders, and Yangyang’s earlier energy is gone. Instead, his head is resting on Jeno’s shoulder, his eyes closed, content to nap there. Jeno exchanges a look with Jaemin. 

“He kind of reminds me of a kitten,” Jaemin whispers, smiling at the freshman and patting him on the head gently. 

“He’s so _cute._ ” Jeno agrees, holding back a laugh when Yangyang shifts on his shoulder and scrunches up his nose. 

“M’ not cute.” he mumbles without opening his eyes. 

“ _Adorable.”_ Jaemin coos. “Our son is growing up so fast.” 

“Fuck you.” Yangyang grumbles, but nuzzles further into Jeno’s shoulder anyways. 

“ _Language._ ” Coach Lee reprimands from the driver’s seat. 

“I like this one.” his husband mutters, elbowing him in the arm. 

“Doyoung, we’re supposed to be _good_ influences.” Coach hisses. 

They park on the curb outside of the diner, filing out of the truck one by one. Jeno gently shakes Yangyang awake and pushes him out before him, leading him into the diner after Jaemin, their coach, and his husband. Yukhei’s van pulls up at the same time and out tumbles Jisung, Mark, Sungchan, and Donghyuck, half of them rowdy and excited by their win and the other half looking dead on their feet. 

When they all make their way inside, the bell on the door ringing loudly, the man cleaning the counters looks up and sighs heavily. It’s empty inside save for him- the usual evening customers must have already come and left. 

“Oh boy,” he groans, “it’s _that_ time of year again, isn’t it?” 

“You bet, Johnny!” Yukhei makes finger guns at the owner of the diner, flashing him a smile. “Didn’t you miss us?” The team piles into two booths, crawling over each other in vain attempts to get to sit by the window. 

“Yes and no.” Johnny says, rolling his eyes as pulls a notepad out of his back pocket, “You’re great for business, but _terrible_ for my sanity. By the look on your coach’s face, I assume he’s offered to pay?” Coach Lee grimaces in response. 

“Coach Lee’s cool like that,” Jisung explains, making half of the team ( _and_ Doyoung) burst into laughter. 

“New additions?” Johnny points to Jisung and Yangyang. 

“Yup, our youngest children.” Yukhei announces proudly. 

“Cute.” Johnny says, ruffling Jisung’s hair, “Try not to corrupt them too badly.” 

“No promises.” Jaemin beams at him. 

“Anyways, I think we’re uh, just gonna get a bunch of fries,” Mark pipes up, “and milkshakes for everybody except Jaemin because he’s lactose intolerant, and a lot of burgers. I don’t know, you probably know our order better than us at this point.” 

“This is very true,” Johnny agrees, spinning his pen between his fingers, “okay, I’ll be back. _Don’t_ burn the place down.” 

“Again, _no promises-”_ Jaemin stands up, and Sungchan reaches up a hand and shoves him back into his seat. 

“You guys are so embarrassing,” Sungchan says, smiling anyways, “maybe I _should_ have joined basketball.” 

“Hey, respect your elders.” Donghyuck warns him. 

“Basketball is a game for tall people.” Jaemin says, flicking a hand dismissively as though basketball has wronged him in some terribly personal way. “Baseball is a game for the _intelligent_.” 

“Then why are _you_ here?” 

“Lee Jeno the _audacity-”_ Jeno yelps when Jaemin lunges across the table in an attempt to smack him, knocking over the salt shaker in the process and sending the entire table into a downward spiral of chaos. 

It only ends when Johnny returns with their food, placing the plates on the table, and if anything can shut eight loud teenage boys up, it’s _food._

Jeno has to admit that he’s _starving_ ; squatting for two hours straight tires you out fast, though it’s great for the thighs and ass, as Jaemin would put it. The conversation quiets down as the team digs in, and as the sun sets outside and the diner falls into a sort of sleepy lull, Jeno does too.

Johnny’s has been the place that the team has gone to after every game since Jeno was a freshman. Jeno knows the place like the back of his hand; the faded leather seats of the booths, the paintings hung up on the walls, the battered menus that have doodles in the margins, and so the feeling of being squished into his seat with teammates on either side with the satisfaction of a victory hanging over them is familiar and welcome. 

They eat in relative silence until Mark sets down his glass a little too hard. 

“Dude,” Yukhei says, throwing an arm around his best friend, “are you _crying?_ ” 

“ _No_ ,” Mark protests, but sniffles and wipes his eyes anyways. “Okay, maybe. I just- I just wanna thank you guys,” he continues, Yukhei patting him gently on the shoulder, “I still dunno why you voted me captain, but it. . . it means a lot, I guess.” 

“Why does he seem drunk?” Yangyang says in a stage whisper, glancing furtively at the captain, “All he’s had is a milkshake.” 

“No, he’s just emotional,” Jeno stage-whispers back, “he’d probably drown in his own tears if he was drunk, though.” 

“No, no I mean it,” Mark continues, sniffling more aggressively this time, “it's my last year here- Yukhei’s too- and I, we want to make you all proud. Because, because even though I don’t act like it all the time, I really love you guys, okay?” 

“Aw,” Jaemin says, shaking Jeno’s shoulder, “this is so sweet, when did Mark get so _sweet?_ ” 

“Are we like, positive nobody spiked his milkshake, though.” 

“Shut up Yangyang, don’t ruin the moment.” 

Mark blinks furiously. “I want to work extra hard this year,” he continues, his eyes shining, “if you guys wanted me to be captain, then I want to make it worth your while, so we’re _going_ to win the league championships this year.” 

“THAT’S RIGHT!” Yukhei screeches, shaking Mark with fervor, “MARKIE AND I ARE GOING OUT WITH A _BANG!_ ” 

“ _DAMN STRAIGHT!”_ Jaemin bellows, smacking the table heartily. 

“No yelling in my _diner!_ ” Johnny reminds them, angrily pointing to the sign on the wall that states exactly that. “My poor, poor neighbors.” He sighs, running an exasperated hand through his hair. 

“ _We’re gonna win it!_ ” Jeno whisper-screams. 

“ _We’re gonna go_ undefeated _!_ ” Sungchan punches the air. 

“Okay, don’t get _too_ excited there,” Coach Lee reminds them, grinning fondly down at the team and blocking Sungchan’s punches before they actually hit Donghyuck in the face. “I think we have the ability to win, sure. It won’t be easy, but with hard work and practice, I think we can pull it off.” 

“Really?” Jisung blinks up at him, starry-eyed. 

“Really, kiddo.” Coach Lee ruffles his hair- people really seem to like doing that to Jisung for some reason, but Jeno doesn’t blame them- and Jisung doesn’t seem to mind it too much either. 

Mark dries off his tears on Yukhei’s jersey, and when he picks his head back up he’s smiling one of those smiles where his eyes and nose scrunch up, which Jeno has come to understand means that he’s _really_ happy. 

“It’s about time we get going,” Coach Lee admits standing from his seat and pulling his husband up by the hand. 

“Understandably,” Jaemin nods sagely, “you have adult-y things to do.” 

“And three cats to feed.” Coach Lee rolls his eyes. “Do any of you need a ride home?” They all shake their heads, a chorus of _“No thanks, Coach!”_ rising up from the pack of boys. “Well, see you all at practice tomorrow morning, then.” 

“Goodnight Coach and Coach’s Husband!” 

“You can just call me Doyoung, you know.” 

“Yes, but that sounds so informal, and you deserve the utmost respect, sir,” Yangyang explains, giving him a sharp salute. Doyoung’s eyebrows hit his hairline, and he grabs Coach Lee’s sleeve. 

“Hey, Taeyong, I know we weren’t thinking about adopting, but I’d make an exception for-”

“Yangyang already has a perfectly decent family,” Coach Lee says, exasperatedly tugging his husband out of the diner, “it’s been a _day_ and this kid’s already seducing _my_ husband. . .” He’s cut off as the door swings shut, and the entire team bursts out into raucous laughter. 

“You know,” Yangyang says thoughtfully once they all quiet down, “I think I’d prefer living with them over living with _Ten._ ”

As if he were summoned from whatever art student hell he resides in by the mere mention of his name, Yangyang’s older brother bursts into the diner, the bell announcing his arrival loudly. Curiously, Johnny has evaporated, disappearing from sight, though judging by the furious look on Ten’s face it’s probably for the better.

“Uh oh,” Yangyang mutters.

“ _Liu Yangyang,_ ” Ten snarls, and then starts berating his younger brother in rapidfire Mandarin that nobody can understand save for Yukhei, and even then he can only pick out a few phrases here and there. 

Ten is a few years older than the entire team, but most of them know him fairly well due to him being a constant hovering presence at Johnny’s, and now because Yangyang is a part of the team. Jeno thinks he’s pretty cool- he has blond highlights in his hair, and he’s _really_ good at pulling off winged eyeliner, _and_ his fashion sense is impeccable- but it’s at times like this when he remembers that an angry Ten is a force to be reckoned with, and ideally avoided at all costs. 

“I think he just called him an ‘irresponsible little rat,’ whatever that means,” Yukhei translates under his breath, earning a few snickers from the rest of the team, “oh, and now he’s telling him that he’s an idiot in about fifteen different ways. And- okay, I’m not translating _that_ one.” He grimaces.

Ten finishes his tirade with an exasperated huff, and then turns to the rest of the team. “Oh, hey guys,” he smiles brightly at them, “congrats on your win!” Jeno is getting whiplash from this sudden change in mood. He turns back to Yangyang, the fire in his eyes reigniting. “ _Maybe_ I would’ve come to watch, if I’d _known that you had a game_.” 

Yangyang shrugs sheepishly. 

“I might have forgotten to tell. . . everybody in my family about it. So nobody knew where I was all afternoon long.” 

“Our moms nearly called the police _,_ ” Ten explains, evidently somewhat exasperated. 

“That would uh,” Mark nods, fear in his eyes, “that would do it.” 

“Yeah, I’ll just,” Yangyang stands from the booth, “I’ll just be going now.”

“Damn right you will,” Ten grumbles, lifting him up by the back of his jersey and dragging him out of the diner. 

The rest of the team are soon to follow, exchanging goodbyes and walking their respective ways home. Even though it’s early spring, the nighttimes are still cold, and Jeno wishes he’d brought a coat with him when he starts to shiver. The streetlamps lining the sidewalk illuminate the road with soft light as he walks home next to Jaemin, their breath puffing out in pale clouds as they talk quietly. 

They’ve been neighbors and inseparable since they were in kindergarten, a dynamic duo, a two-in-one package, a buy-one-get-one-free deal. Lee Jeno is not Lee Jeno without a certain Na Jaemin close by, and vice versa, and that’s simply the way of the world.

Jeno’s mind wanders as they walk, thinking about the upcoming season, the prospect of maybe _actually_ winning the playoffs this year, of sending Mark and Yukhei off the college with a victory like that, of making Coach Lee proud.

They can do it, he decides with startling sureness.

He knows they can.


	2. “This is starting to get suspicious”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which jaemin inadvertendly gives johnny a concussion, yukhei becomes a professional spy exterminator, and jeno potentially gets his ass beat by a tiny, angry man

Jeno wakes up the next morning to something awfully heavy landing on top of him, knocking the air out his lungs. 

“ _What the-_ ”

“Wake up!” Jaemin shouts directly into his ear. “We have practice, remember?”

“W-what time is it?” Jeno grumbles, yawning and shoving Jaemin off of him. 

“Eleven-fifteen,” Jaemin urges him, clapping his hands loudly, “go, go, _move_ you useless lump, don’t you know how Coach feels about tardiness by now?” 

“I’m moving, I’m moving.” Jeno mumbles, pulling his blankets off of himself and internally lamenting the loss of warmth. “Also, _ow,_ you have pointy elbows.” Jaemin sits cross-legged on his floor, most likely glaring up at him, although at the moment all Jeno can see is a vaguely Jaemin-shaped blob. 

“All the better to _beat you to a pulp with if you make us late!_ ” 

“Who even let you _in?_ ” Jeno asks, rolling out of bed and searching around desperately for his glasses; Jaemin shoves them onto his face for him, nearly taking his eye out in the process.

“I know where your spare key is,” Jaemin shrugs, “and also, your mom likes me better than you, so she let me in anyways. And she gave me a pancake!”

“Ooh, she made pancakes?” Jeno pauses.

“Not for you, we don’t have the time.” Jaemin’s back is turned, pulling clothes out of Jeno’s drawers with the confidence of somebody who spends most of his time as if he lives in Jeno’s house anyways, which is exactly what he does. He throws the bundle of clothes and a packet of contact lenses at Jeno, who catches them with ease. “Now, get dressed.” 

“But I’m _hungry_.” Jeno whines as he pulls on a shirt and his dirt and his pants with the dirt and grass stains on them, “How am I supposed to practice on an empty stomach?” 

“We’ll grab you a bagel at Johnny’s or something, I don’t know, just _hurry up._ And don’t you dare touch that hairbrush, nobody cares what you look like, we’re gonna go roll around in the dirt and sweat for two hours.” Jaemin snatches the brush out of his hand, tossing it back onto his dresser haphazardly. 

They race down the stairs, Jeno tugging on his cleats as fast as he can, since practice _always_ starts at eleven-thirty and he’s not really in the mood to run five extra laps around the field. 

“Bye, honey!” His mom calls after him as Jaemin drags him out the door, pulling his bag off of the hook by the front door and shoving it into his arms, muttering something about how he ‘needs a new best friend who preferably has a louder alarm clock’.

“You know, you didn’t _have_ to wait for me,” Jeno reminds him.

“Well, I’d be a bad friend if I didn’t, and Coach would be mad if I just left you, so,” Jaemin shrugs breathlessly, “it’s just my friendly obligation to drag your lazy ass out of bed on weekends, really.”

“Thanks.” Jeno says drily.

By now, he’s wide awake, the morning sun bright and refreshing on his face, bringing him to attention almost as easily as Jaemin’s fingers digging into his bicep do. Still, he nearly trips on a crack in the sidewalk, stumbling and almost taking Jaemin down with him. 

They burst into Johnny’s diner, and Johnny falls off of the counter that he’d been perched on in surprise.

“ _What’s the world record for the fastest time somebody can serve a bagel?_ ” Jaemin asks loudly, and Jeno almost feels bad when he sees the pure fear in Johnny’s eyes as he scrambles to get back up from the floor. Still, he seems to understand, tossing Jeno a bagel just as Jeno throws some money on the counter, and as the two of them are dashing back out the door they can hear him mumbling something about how much he _despises_ baseball season. 

“It doesn’t even have cream cheese,” Jeno complains, “who the hell eats a dry bagel for breakfast?”

“We’re gonna be eating a whole lot of _dirt_ if you don’t run _faster_.” Jaemin pants. 

It’s a very good thing that they don’t live far from the field, because after running for about another block or so they find themselves arriving at exactly eleven-twenty-nine, out of breath and already sweating.

Thankfully, most of the team is already there, but Coach Lee is nowhere to be found just yet. 

Yukhei and Yangyang are playing a lazy game of catch, although Yangyang hasn’t quite gotten used to the velocity at which Yukhei throws and flinches every time the ball lands in his glove; Sungchan and Jisung are lying down in the grass side by side, talking quietly; and Mark and Donghyuck are pointedly ignoring each other, but have nobody else to talk to so they’re just sitting awkwardly several feet apart. 

The latter pair seem relieved when Jeno and Jaemin barrel onto the field. 

“Cutting it close, I see.” 

“Slept in,” Jeno explains, collapsing onto the ground, “couldn’t be late.” 

“What were _you two_ doing last night?” Donghyuck asks, smirking. 

“Oh, nah,” Jaemin explains easily, “as much of a sexy beefcake of man Jeno is, we’ve established _boundaries_.” 

“He’s not even my type,” Jeno confirms. 

“I’m just his human alarm clock, nothing more and nothing less. Which means that I’m _available,_ baby.” He winks at Donghyuck, who promptly flips him off. 

“O- _Kay,_ ” Mark says loudly, bolting up from where he’s been sitting in the grass, “enough of that conversation, let’s just uh, get started.”

“I am _so_ glad that you boys are self-sufficient enough to start practice on your own.” Coach Lee’s voice drifts across the field, and Jeno can feel his sarcasm even from far away. 

Understanding their cue, the entire team scrambles up from where they’d been sitting in a vague circular formation in the grass. When Coach Lee finally arrives, tossing down his bucket of baseballs and his pile of spare bats onto the ground with a loud clang, he gives them a hard stare. 

“Run.” 

“ _Yes, Coach!_ ”

That’s how Jeno finds himself feeling like his lungs have collapsed, his legs burning and his throat dry as he follows Mark’s lead in what must be their tenth lap around the field at _least_. And not just the playing field, mind you, the _entire_ perimeter, fence post to fence post. 

“Wow,” Yukhei wheezes next to him, “I didn’t miss _this_ part of it at all.” Jeno has to tilt his head up slightly to make eye contact with the older boy. 

“ _Agreed._ ”

After Coach deems that they’ve run for long enough, he calls them in to run some individual drills for a while, sending Yukhei off to lead fielding practice and telling Jeno to catch for Donghyuck while Coach himself works with Mark. When Donghyuck hears about this arrangement he rolls his eyes, but follows Jeno to a more isolated spot on the field anyways.

“Something wrong with me?” Jeno asks jokingly, wincing when his muscles protest as he drops into his usual squat. 

“No, it’s not you,” Donghyuck sighs, “you’re great. It’s just- _he_ always gets prioritized when it comes to pitching.” 

“The age old problem.” Jeno placates him gently, tossing him a ball. 

“And like,” Donghyuck continues, “I _know_ he’s a senior, and the captain of the entire team and stuff, so of course he kind of needs the attention more than I do, but. . .” He throws a pitch that’s almost a foot too far to Jeno’s right, forcing Jeno to reach out to catch it. Donghyuck sighs. “Well, if I keep doing _that,_ then Coach has a good reason to keep Mark as his number one.”

“You just need to relax,” Jeno tells him, “ we both know that you get thrown off your game when you’re distracted, which is the only difference between you and Mark. That, and all of the things you already said, but that’s not a measure of skill anyways. You’re a great pitcher, Hyuck- if you weren’t then we wouldn’t be practicing it right now.”

“You’re right.” Donghyuck says, flashing him a smile. “Mark’s a fucking _robot._ It’s terrifying.” 

“Truly.” Jeno agrees; the next pitch Donghyuck throws is perfectly centered, landing with a satisfying smack in the center of his glove.

Jeno understands where Donghyuck is coming from, especially since back in their middle school days Donghyuck had been their star pitcher. It had been in their freshman year when Mark had come along, fresh off of a flight from Vancouver, and in a turn of events that Jaemin later affectionately named the _Great Canadian Disaster,_ took that position away from him. Unwittingly, of course, especially since Mark’s an absolute sweetheart and can do absolutely no wrong in Jeno’s (or the entire team’s) eyes, but nonetheless it had been a blow to Hyuck’s self esteem. To this day, Jeno’s not entirely sure if the two of them have ever talked it out.

“Okay, why don’t you try a curveball this time.” Jeno suggests, and tosses the ball back to Donghyuck only to realize that he’s not even looking at him. “ _Look out!_ ” 

Donghyuck comes to his senses, yelping and ducking just as Jeno’s throw whizzes over his head.

“ _What the hell, man!_ ” He squeaks, garing at Jeno, “Look before you throw!”  
“How about _paying attention_?” Jeno snaps. “What were you looking at, anyways?” 

“That guy.” Donghyuck points to the bleachers, which are. . . empty, save for Doyoung, who apparently has nothing better to do besides lounge on the seats like a cat and read a book, and a lone boy. If Jeno squints, he can make out the tufts of dark hair that frame his face, and, much more interestingly, the notepad he’s holding in his hands. He seems to be staring right back at them, making startling eye contact with Jeno that he can sense even from across the field.

“Huh,” Jeno says, shrugging, “I’ve never seen him around here before.” He looks vaguely familiar, but from this distance Jeno can’t match him to any names he might know from school.

“He was at the game yesterday, too.”  
“He was?” Jeno turns back to Donghyuck. “I didn’t notice.”

“Oh, Jeno,” Donghyuck sighs, “always so observant. Any idea what he’s here for?”  
Jeno squints across the field again. “I don’t know,” he admits. 

Weird.

For the rest of practice, Jeno more or less forgets that the boy is there. He hits nearly every ball that Coach Lee tosses at him during batting practice, and he catches every pitch that Mark and Donghyuck send his way, and he _definitely_ doesn’t occasionally glance over at the bleachers to find the boy still sitting patiently, occasionally writing something down like he’s taking notes. It’s just not something that happens very often; he wonders if he’s just a new friend that Yukhei made, because he tends to pick up a new one every week or so, or maybe he’s-

“ _A spy!_ ” Sungchan exclaims suddenly, eyes going wide. “What if he’s a spy for one of the other teams?” 

“Oh my God,” Jisung agrees, dropping the ball he’d been halfway through throwing, “you’re right. Why else would he be taking notes?” 

“This is very serious,” Yukhei adds, “I say that we wait until he leaves, and then we tail him and find out where he’s going.” 

“And when we catch him?” Yangyang asks. 

“Well.” Yukhei swings his bat around intimidatingly. “Then, he’d better _run._ ” 

“Bro, no offense, but one time I was at your house and an ant crawled onto the table, and when I smacked it with my chemistry book, you cried.” Mark materializes behind him, snatching the bat out of his hands before he can hit himself or someone else with it. “You’re not hurting _anybody._ Besides, I don’t think he’s spying. I’m pretty sure I’ve seen him in school before.” 

“That’s called deep cover _,_ ” Sungchan protests, “he’s a pro! I bet that’s not even his real hair or something!” 

“He’s a _mole._ ” 

“Like, the animal?” 

“I think his hair looks too good to be a wig.” 

“What are you kids even _talking_ about?” Coach Lee is staring at them all, dumbfounded. 

“That guy over there is spying on us!” Jisung says quickly. 

“Yeah, you gotta go tell him off, Coach! Protect our super secret strategies!” 

“I will be doing no such thing,” Coach Lee scoffs, “and we don’t _have_ any super secret strategies. We barely have any strategies _period._ You are all going to leave the poor kid alone, and not harass him, or question him, or hit him with a baseball bat, do you hear me?” 

“Yes, Coach.” 

* * *

The Spy, as the team has creatively dubbed him, seems to haunt their lives after the instance at practice. Jeno sees him everywhere, in the hallways, in the cafeteria, outside before school starts, even a few times at Johnny’s.

“This is starting to get suspicious.” Yukhei sets his lunch tray down with a loud clatter, startling the rest of the team out of their comfortable chatter. Jeno watches as he pulls up a chair at the head of the table, folding his hands and staring them all down as though they’re attendees at an important business meeting. Everybody stares at Yukhei silently, maybe not knowing how to respond, maybe so used to him that they don’t even try. 

“What is?” Jisung decides to humor him. 

“I am so glad you asked.” Yukhei nods formally. “We have a problem. A _spy_ problem.” He glances furtively at a table two away from theirs, where the Spy himself sits, talking with whom Jeno has come to understand are his friends. Notably, his hair still looks very much real and not at all fake, and he pays no attention to Yukhei’s intense scrutiny. 

“For the last time, “ Donghyuck groans, “he’s not a spy, he sits behind me in chemistry, he _has_ sat behind me in chemistry since fucking _September._ ”

“Then why don’t you know his name?” Yukhei retorts, “Isn’t that suspicious to you?”

“‘Cause he never talks.” Donghyuck rolls his eyes.

“Sounds pretty suspicious to _me_.” Yangyang snickers.

“This is getting ridiculous,” Mark decides, standing from his seat, “I’m just gonna ask him.” 

“ _You can’t do that!_ ” Yukhei yanks him back down into his seat, causing Mark to make a strangled noise of surprise. 

“Why _not_?” 

“We need to strategize,” Yukhei explains animatedly, “we need to be smart about this.”

“ _He’s not a spy!_ ” 

Jeno’s content to just listen to the argument happening around him, resting his chin on his hand and merely spectating. The Spy is most likely _not_ a spy, although it is funny to watch the team argue over it. He can’t help but be curious about the _why-_ you don’t just start showing up at baseball practices for nothing, after all- but he also can’t really find it in himself to approach the boy. So instead, he lets his gaze drift over to where he’s sitting with his friends, laughing at something one of them said, and watches absentmindedly as he runs a hand through his soft-looking (and very _real_ looking) hair. 

“See anything _suspicious_ , Jeno?” Jaemin asks him, and when he turns around he finds him smirking. 

“No,” he retorts shortly, stomping on Jaemin’s foot underneath the table, “now eat, we need the energy for the game later today.”

You think that he’ll be there?” Yangyang asks. He in particular seems to find the spy incident hilarious, especially since Yukhei is taking it _incredibly_ seriously. 

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

“I still think we should just ask,” Mark grumbles, “maybe he needs to know something important, I don’t know.” 

“Maybe he’s just my number one fan,” Donghyuck offers, making half the team laugh. 

No matter what he might be attending their games and practices for, the boy _does_ have an air of mystery that Jeno can’t help but be interested in. Maybe a little _too_ interested, judging by how long he spends staring off in his general direction, lost in thought.

“Stop staring at him,” Jaemin whispers in his ear, “it’s-”

“If you say the word suspicious, I am going to throw my lunch at you.”

“Do it, you won’t.” Jaemin challenges him.

Fortunately, Jaemin is saved from seeing whether Jeno would actually assault him with his sandwich by the fact that lunch ends precisely then, and in the sudden commotion of students getting up from their tables and flocking towards the doors, Jeno forgets all about the curious case of the maybe-spy for a while.

While he’s in math class, seeing how many pencils he can put in Donghyuck’s hood without him noticing, his mind drifts onto the topic of the upcoming game later today. He’s more worried than he was during the first game, mostly because the team they’re playing is one of the most well-known teams in the league, hailing from a much bigger city from theirs and boasting a nearly impeccable playing record. 

He faith in Jisung’s ability to catch his throws, and to field whatever comes his way. He knows that Yangyang is the slipperiest, quickest-witted left fielder they’ve had in a while and in his short time playing with them he’s already made some outstanding catches out there, so he’s not too worried. With the freshmen taken care of, he’s positive the rest of the team can do their jobs well, and so really, why shouldn’t they have a chance? 

The bell rings, and Donghyuck stands up and all _twelve_ pencils Jeno had had lying around in his bag come tumbling out of his hood, because he never noticed that he was putting them there. He whips around and glares at him, kicking him in the shin and giving him a simple “fuck you”, and a glare that lets him know that revenge is coming sooner rather than later, and then he leaves Jeno to pick his pencils up all by himself.

When he finally makes it out of the classroom, a little late because it took him a while to find all of his pencils, he finds the halls already empty for the most part, the entire student body having exited the premises as quickly as humanly possible (not that Jeno blames them). So, he quietly pulls his things from his locker and makes his way down to the locker rooms by the gym to get changed before the game. 

His footsteps echo in the empty halls, and as he checks the time on his phone, his speedwalk turns into a jog; their game is away, so if he makes them all late for the bus, he has an earful and a half from Coach Lee waiting for him, and a Disappointed Mark Lee Look™ that he does not want to be subjected to today. 

Like Jeno said, he hasn’t seen their alleged spy around school that much, not until the entire team started noticing him more and more often. They’ve never had a class together, and Jeno has just never had the means to interact with him; they seem to come from two completely different groups of people, which explains why they’ve never even spoken before, why Jeno doesn’t even know his name. 

Which is why he cannot believe his misfortune when he rounds a corner exactly the wrong time and ends up barreling into somebody while he’s looking at his phone, knocking both himself and the other person backwards a few steps. 

“O-oh, sorry!” He says quickly, wincing when he watches a binder and a bunch of loose papers scatter themselves around the empty hallway. Without looking up, he bends down to help pick them up, gathering them as quickly as possibly into a neat stack and handing them to the person standing before him.

When Jeno straightens back up, he finds himself staring directly into the sharp gaze of none other than-

“The Spy?” He says it to himself, without thinking, because he's _surprised_ and he doesn't expect to run headfirst into the very person that's been the buzz of the team for the past few days. 

The boy blinks at him once, twice, his dark eyes boring into Jeno’s and his mouth drawn into a flat line.

“ _What_ did you just call me?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> . renjun is an angry boy lmao not really but like ?? if somebody crashed into YOU and then called you a spy wouldnt you be a little annoyed? i was VERY conflicted with how to write renjun's character, becayse i see him as somebody who's not shy, but not talkative eiher. he's kind of reserved at first but he opens up after a while, and he is a lil fiery by nature so there's that. but like i get the feeling that he has So Much going on in his head? ike i am convinced part of renjun's brain is hacking into the pentagon at any given moment while the other half is occupied being snarky to the dreamies. anyways basically i didnt want to wrote him as this like shy boy type character because that just was not fitting so we'll see where this takes us i guess.


	3. "you wouldn’t ever improve if you weren’t afraid of falling behind first, would you?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which jeno is Intimidated, oblivious, and wise all at once, mark really needs to sleep some more, taeyong is stressed, xiaojun is mentioned once but i love him very much, and renjun delivers the speech of a lifetime

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the way i rewrote this three times

Jeno freezes, his hands awkwardly hovering the air between them after handing the boy his papers, a wave of fear and embarrassment washing over him as he realizes what he’s said. 

“Uh,” he says quickly, “that’s not what I meant to say, what I _meant_ to say was that I’m really sorry for running into you, you’re not a-” 

He cuts himself off because the boy is still glaring at him, making him feel unusually fidgety beneath his gaze. Jeno has never felt more threatened by somebody wearing a sweater vest before in his life. Really, he shouldn’t be intimidating at all- he’s several inches shorter than Jeno, in fact Jeno could probably throw him a decent distance if he wanted to, his face is soft and his mouth is pouty and his eyes are framed by wire-rimmed glasses- and yet here Jeno is, quivering beneath his stare. 

“You’re um, not a spy at all, I’m sure, I’m sure you’re fantastic, really. I just- 

It’s something about his eyes, Jeno decides. Somebody (probably Johnny) once told him that the eyes are the window to the soul, and this boy’s eyes betray his soft exterior; Jeno gets the sense that _his_ soul is aflame, very much alive and far more expressive than his face gives away. 

“You're on the baseball team.” 

It’s a statement, not a question, but at least it cuts off Jeno’s pathetic blabbering. Perhaps this fact is evident from the bag slung over Jeno’s shoulder, which is covered in an unattractive amount of dust, and has his favorite aluminum bats strapped rather obviously at the sides. But then again, he’s also been at all of their games and a practice, so really it would be a little odd if he _didn’t_ recognize Jeno. 

“Yes,” he responds carefully, “that’s me.” He doesn’t really like how monotone the rest of the boy is, so he has no choice but to stay focused on that jarring, shielded vibrancy in his eyes. 

“Good,” the boy says, holding Jeno’s gaze evenly, “because I need to talk to you. One of you, anyways.” It rolls off of his tongue easily, like it’s been rehearsed before. 

“Uh,” Jeno says, glancing at the clock on the wall, “about what? I have a-”

“A game at three, I’m aware.” He says cooly, and Jeno’s eyebrows skyrocket. “And no, I’m not a _spy,_ ” he adds with distaste, “and I’m not stalking you guys. I have an assignment, and I- well, that’s kind of what I need help with.” 

“Oh yeah, sorry about the whole, the whole spy thing,” Jeno apologizes sheepishly, “the team, they get a little carried away. Especially Yukehei.” The boy’s lips twitch upwards at that. 

“He seems fun.” If only he knew. “Anyways, I need a favor from somebody on the team. Like I said, I really don’t care who, but,” he looks at Jeno for a substantial moment, “you’ll work.” 

“Uh. Thank you?” 

“You should go.” The boy nods to the clock on the wall, ticking closer and closer to three. He looks at Jeno again, the apprehensive way he clutches his papers to his chest the only sign of any discomfort. “I’ll be in the library after school tomorrow if you decide to come.” 

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just tell me _now?_ ” 

“No particularly.” 

“Okay,” Jeno says slowly, not wanting to argue, “then I’ll maybe see you tomorrow, when I maybe show up at the library and you maybe tell me about your mystery mission or whatever it is.”

“Gotta keep you on your toes,” the boy agrees, eyes sparkling. 

“Sorry again for walking into you.” Jeno rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I’m Jeno, by the way. Are you gonna keep your name a mystery too?” 

“Would it make you more inclined to show up tomorrow?” 

“Uh,” Jeno stutters, “I don’t-”

“I’m kidding,” the boy says, laughing a very small laugh, “my name’s Renjun.” 

“Okay, well,” Jeno says, starting to continue on his way, “see you, uh, sometime, Renjun.” 

* * *

“Jeno, you can’t just _be late_ and expect us all to wait for you.” This is what Jaemin says to him, hands on his hips, while the entire team is standing where the bus usually picks them up and is doing exactly that, _waiting._

“Then why are you waiting for me?” Jeno jogs up to them, grinning despite Coach Lee’s slightly miffed expression. 

“Because the bus is late,” Mark explains, sighing and resting his head on Yukhei’s shoulder, closing his eyes, which makes the dark circles beneath them stand out even more than ever. 

“Rest assured, though, if it was on time, we wouldn’t have waited for you.” Jaemin pokes him in the chest. “What were you busy doing, dealing drugs?” 

“Actually, I-”

Jeno hesitates. Should he tell them about Renjun? There’s no reason not to, but the more he thinks about it, the harder it seems to be to explain. And besides, Yukhei has developed a vehement distrust for anybody who isn’t on the team, declaring them a “possible associate of the spy”, and so Jeno isn’t very sure how telling him in particular would go over. 

“-I was just asking Mr. Lee to explain something from the homework from last night.” He shrugs. It’s a believable explanation, anyways.

“Dude, you know I wouldn’t mind explaining AP Bio stuff to you, I know it can be hard,” Mark says, frowning, “that’s what I’m-”

“Oh, be quiet,” Donghyuck says suddenly, bumping Mark maybe a little too roughly and sending both him and Yukhei stumbling a step, “nobody needs to hear about how smart and perfect you are or whatever.”

“Jesus, you _know_ that’s not how I-” 

“-and besides,” Donghyuck continues, holding up a hand to silence Mark’s protests, “if you put _one more_ thing on that overflowing schedule of yours, you’re going to drop dead from exhaustion, and unfortunately, we as a team can’t have that happening.” 

“He’s the biggest tsundere in existence,” Jaemin whispers gleefully in Jeno’s ear, “I don’t even think _he_ knows what he’s doing.”

“What’s he doing?” Jeno whispers back, confused.

“That’s my observant Jeno.” Jaemin gives him a pat on the back. “Don’t worry about it, you’ll figure it out sometime.”

“Wha-”

Precisely then, the bus pulls into the parking lot, temporarily removing any thought of Renjun and of whatever nonsense Jaemin’s talking about from his mind. Coach Lee, who looks disgruntled and keeps checking his phone for the time, herds them onto the bus before boarding it himself, taking the seat closest to the driver. 

Jeno throws himself down into a seat, feeling somebody sit down next to him. 

“Hi,” Jisung says shyly, because he’s still new and Jeno hasn’t gotten to know him that well yet. 

“Hey.” Jeno gives him a reassuring grin. The bus rumbles to life beneath them, and as they pull out of the parking lot the voices of the team start to fill in the otherwise silence, mostly soft murmurings of conversation. 

“Mark’s gonna take a nap,” Yukhei announces, “so if any of you are loud, I’ll personally annihilate you.”

“Stop threatening people for my sake,” Mark says between a yawn, “we all know you wouldn’t do it anyways.”

Jisung leans over to Jeno apprehensively, eyeing where Yukhei is patting Mark’s already sleeping head gently whilst glaring around at the rest of the team. “He’s joking, right?” He asks, “I can never tell if he’s joking.”

“Yukhei is a ray of sunshine who happens to be six feet tall,” Jeno reassures him, “he’s very all bark and no bite, if you know what I mean. He’s just protective. Mark’s a workaholic, and Yukhei’s the only one who can really get through to him and get him to chill out, so,” Jeno shrugs, “no, he won’t annihilate you.”

“Oh, that’s. . . really sweet, actually.”

“That’s Yukhei for you, I guess.” Jeno laughs.

The bus ride drags on, and Jeno himself can’t help but feel sleepy, listening to Yangyang and Donghyuck quietly bicker about whether the _Star Wars_ prequel trilogy’s existence should be acknowledged (“ _They’re essential to the storyline!_ ” Says Yangyang, while Donghyuck attempts to shut him down with the inarguable refutation of “ _Yeah, but Jar Jar Binks should be burned in hell by the devil himself, and the acting is shit anyways_ ”). Some kind of pop music plays faintly in Jisung’s headphones, and the freshman is biting his lip nervously, his fingers fidgeting where they rest on his thigh.

“Are you nervous?” Jeno taps him on the shoulder. Jisung pulls out one of his headphones, blinking apologetically at him. 

“Huh?”

“I just asked if you were nervous,” Jeno repeats patiently, “I could be wrong.”

“No, I,” Jisung frowns, pausing his music, “I am, kinda. Was it the music? Chenle says I always play it too loudly whenever I get stressed out, he says I’m trying to drown my sorrows in irreparable ear damage, sorry.”

“It wasn’t,” Jeno reassures him, not bothering to ask about whoever Chenle is, “you just seem tense. Any reason _why_ you’re nervous?”

“I don’t know.” Jisung pauses, shrugs. “I just want to do good, ‘specially since I’m new and all.”

“So isn’t Yangyang, and he doesn’t have a care in the world,” Jeno points out, making Jisung laugh softly, “then again, he’s. . . Yangyang.”

“And I’m me,” Jisung concludes woefully, “perpetually afraid of failure.”

“Hey, nobody said that fear’s a bad thing,” Jeno tells him, “we all still get nervous before a game, anybody with sense would. You wouldn’t ever improve if you weren’t afraid of falling behind first, would you?” Jisung shakes his head. “We all mess up around here, we’re _very_ good at messing up, if you haven’t noticed by now. Nobody’ll get mad at you for making a mistake, or for being nervous- you made the team, didn’t you?” Jisung nods. “Then you’re all set, can’t escape us now, you’re locked in.”

“Wow,” Jisung says after a moment of silence, his eyes glazed over with utter reverence, “old people are so smart. That made a lot of sense, I feel _way_ better now.”

“I will ignore that you called me old and settle for a thank you.” 

“Thanks, Jeno,” Jisung replies, blushing and smiling his awfully bright, gummy smile, and puts his headphones back in. 

Before Jeno can so much as _start_ to think about the Curious Situation Involving A Someone Named Renjun and a Lot of Unnecessary Mystery and Suspense in any capacity, the brakes of the bus screech to a harsh halt and Coach Lee, who’s still checking his watch in an uncharacteristically frazzled manner, shoos them out and onto the field as quickly as possible. 

The rest of the afternoon passes in a blur of baseball and sweat and kicked-up clouds of dust, the air filled with Yukhei and Jaemin’s aggressive cheering and the occasional ping of a bat hitting a ball, the kind of afternoon that Jeno loves the most. Mark’s exhaustion barely shows, pitching nearly perfectly, and Jeno can’t help the flutter of pride in his chest when Jisung, whose nervousness had melted away as the game continued on, hits two consecutive doubles during his turns at bat. This is the kind of energy that he lives for, the place he feels most at home.

* * *

Jeno during a baseball game is like a fish in water, an eagle in the sky, a tiger in the jungle, in his element, in _power._

Jeno standing awkwardly in the school library after the bell has rung is the exact opposite. 

He holds the straps of his backpack, feeling more and more idiotic the longer he spends looking around the space, students milling about and talking happily as they pack up to leave, or while they settle in to do some homework. Jeno isn’t a very library kind of guy, you see; it’s too quiet, too stuffy, and he feels like everybody inside is just smarter than him and therefore judging him for not being smart. So he avoids them, unless he has a specific reason to be in one.

Like today. 

However, as he stands in the doorway and scans the students in the library, he cannot find the elusive, sweater vest-clad party with whom he’s supposed to be meeting with at all, and he’s starting to feel like he’s a part of some elaborate prank. There’s no Renjun in sight at all. 

That is, until Jeno finally decides to take a look into the farthest and most shady corner of the library, which he’d overlooked before because it was so small. But when he finally _does,_ he finds Renjun staring back at him, his expression passive and his eyebrows raised.

_Very observant, very smooth of you, Jeno,_ a voice that sounds suspiciously like Jaemin says in the back of his mind. 

“This is ridiculous,” Jeno mumbles, tossing his backpack to the floor and sitting at the table across from Renjun, “you really had to pick the most obscure location in the entire school for me to find. I feel like I’m in a badly produced mafia movie.”

“I’m flattered” Renjun says drily, “thanks for showing up, by the way.” He has that same notepad from before laid out on the table, the pages blank besides a really good likeness of a bird or something doodled in the corner. Jeno files this piece of information away.

_1: Renjun is really good at drawing birds_

“Yeah, no problem,” Jeno says, “now tell me what this thing’s about, unless you’re going to call in a SWAT team to detain me and interrogate me or something.” 

Renjun laughs at that, and Jeno doesn’t have to look down to see that his pen is moving, doodling something new. Jeno really didn’t take Renjun to be one to doodle, but here he is, doodling. 

_1: Renjun is really good at drawing_ ~~_birds_ ~~ _everything_

“It’s kind of embarrassing, actually, which is why I didn’t really tell you in the hallway yesterday.”

“You said you had an assignment, right?” 

Renjun nods, his pen working away restlessly on his notepad. “Yes, a big one. You see, I write for the school paper,” he explains, “and there was a mistake, in what I got assigned to cover for the spring issue, because _Dejun_ has the brain capacity of a fork or something and can’t organize his writers for- that’s not the point. He’s having me cover the,” Renjun shudders, “the _sports_ section.” 

Jeno quirks an eyebrow. 

“Do you know what sport runs during springtime, Jeno?” Renjun asks. “Baseball does. Do you want to know how much I _know_ about baseball?” Renjun pauses for dramatic effect. “ _Nothing._ ”

“Can’t you just switch assignments with someone?” Jeno asks, and Renjun looks personally offended. 

“My entire reputation rides on this assignment,” he explains, “if I even want a _shot_ at being president of the club next year, I’m going to have to just deal with what I’ve got and do it well.”

“Ah,” Jeno nods in understanding, “a power struggle, I see.” 

“Exactly. So I’ve been doing my research, watching baseball games on TV, attending the school games and taking notes, reading _books_ about baseball techniques and plays but I can’t for the _life_ of me understand what the hell happens on that field.” Jeno feels mildly threatened by the fire flickering behind Renjun’s round glasses as he continues his impassioned speech. “Which is where you come in,” he says, “I can’t fail this, I need somebody to tell me how it all _works_ in a way that I can actually understand. Do you think you can do that?”

Jeno does not feel like he’s just been asked to give a school news reporter the rundown on baseball at all. He _feels_ like he’s just been addressed by the president, he feels like what you’re probably supposed to feel like when you look at one of those Uncle Sam posters that say _I Want YOU,_ except Jeno is not being urged to fight in a world war, he’s being asked to do a soft-looking boy with hurricanes in his eyes a small favor. It’s impressive.

“I,” he starts, his throat feeling dry beneath the intensity of Renjun’s gaze, “uh, sure?” 

Renjun blinks.

“Really?” 

“I mean, it sounds like you really need help,” Jeno elaborates, “and it wouldn’t be too much trouble anyways?” Renjun nods minutely, seeming to process this information slowly.

“Thanks,” he says after a while. Then he takes a moment, adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. “Do you have any time now?” 

Jeno has a feeling that this pains Renjun greatly, asking for help like this. From what he’s gathered so far, Renjun isn’t one to _need_ help very often in the first place, he doesn’t like to be cornered or helpless or perceived as weak. So Jeno suspects that it’s taking a lot out of him, to make himself vulnerable for the sake of his newspaper article or whatever it is, and he respects that. 

“Yeah, I have a few minutes,” he says, “what do you need to know?” 

Renjun seems to visibly deflate, some of the tension releasing from his shoulders and a tiny sigh escaping his lips. 

“Can you tell me what the difference is between the top of an inning and the bottom? Why do innings have tops and bottoms? It’s an essential piece of understanding how the game works and I just don’t. . .”

Jeno explains the concept of innings to him as best he can, tells him about the order of the bases and the different positions and things like that, and Renjun’s pen works furiously to take note of it all. 

He finds that Renjun is funnier and more laid back than he expected, and the longer they spend in the library, the more he starts to loosen up. It doesn’t occur to him to check the time again until he gets a text from Jaemin, telling him that his mom thinks he’s died and he’s going to be late for dinner, and that she’s going to give Jaemin Jeno’s food if he doesn’t hurry his ass up. 

“I have to go,” Jeno explains, starting to gather up his things. 

“Sorry for keeping you.” Renjun frowns. Time had passed far more quickly than he expected it to, and the library is nearly empty by now. 

“I didn’t mind. I kind of had fun, actually.” Jeno shoulders his backpack, ignoring the string of mildly threatening texts from Jaemin starting to flood his notifications. “Anytime you need something, I’m sure I’ll be around.” 

Renjun falters, giving him another confused stare. 

“What?” 

Renjun shakes his head, tucking a strand of flyaway hair behind his ear. “Nothing,” he says, and Jeno swears that he can see a smile tugging at his lips. “See you, Jeno.” 

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jisung is literally so precious oh god now i'm crying. also mark and yukhei's friendship is my favorite thing ever, yukhei's just like "i'll protect this silly little man with my entire life" and mark just has to deal with it. and jeno?? is so sweet he cheers everybody up he gives the best advice like YES he's so idiotic and he can't function in the presence of renjun apparently and he doesn't know what romance is if it slapped him in the face, but by god is he the best friend you could ask for. the team is literally so fun to write together i can't explain to you how fast i pull this dialogue out of my ass?? they're just so fun aghgdvfghecf. also renjun is SO FUN to write too he is just a teeny little ball of flame and aggression and i love that for him
> 
> anyhow im tired and i have an essay to write and i have a headache and i don’t actually know how much sense this chapter makes but like oh well


	4. “Aha, I know the one. Tiny, glasses, looks like he’s planning a murder?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which renjun makes a feline friend, jeno's in crisis mode as per fucking usual, mark's shin is abused, johnny is literally considering selling his diner and moving to sibera at this point, and sungchan just wants to talk about space

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is high key a filler sorry, no beta i live on the edge baby

Coach Lee looks like he believes in them only slightly less than usual this time around. 

Not to say that he _doesn’t_ believe in them, he just. . . knows their abilities. But there’s something about the tenseness in his shoulders and the hard edge to his gaze that’s worse than usual as he rounds them up for a pre-game rundown, his clipboard held tightly in his hands and his hair rumpled beneath the cap that shields his eyes from the sun. 

“Everything okay, Coach?” Yukhei asks, glancing at him warily. They’re standing in a loose huddle off to the side in their dugout, the other team, clad in red and black and looking intimidatingly _good at baseball,_ warming up on the field. 

“It’s fine,” Coach Lee mumbles, not looking up from his clipboard and chewing on the end of his pen, “everything’s fine. We’ve played this team before, haven’t we? Anybody want to tell me how it went?” 

“We were crushed,” Sungchan supplies helpfully, “pummeled like tiny ants beneath a giant boot or something.” 

“I think I almost died playing them,” Donghyuck muses, “their runners kept almost running me over.” 

“And their pitcher,” Jaemin shudders, “immaculate. Nobody could get a hit in.” 

Coach Lee nods grimly. “That's about what I remember.” He confirms. “They're called the Riot, and they’re from a bigger city.” 

“Ooh, big city boys, I see how it is,” Yangyang says, making fists with his hands. 

“Yeehaw,” Sungchan agrees solemnly. 

“They’re known for being strong all around, and for rarely losing a game.” Coach Lee rattles off his biggest concerns, the intensity of his speech almost frightening. “Their pitcher is formidable, and their batters are home-run hitters, but if we stay on top of our game we _might_ have a chance. Yangyang, I know you can handle catching just about anything, but I need you to be even more vigilant than usual, and everybody has to be wary of them when they try to steal, because they _will,_ and they’ll do it well. And remember, if we lose this one, it’s _not_ the end of our chances at the playoffs, okay? So just,” he huffs out a breath, putting on a smile for them all, “try your best out there.” 

“ _You look constipated, Yongie!_ ” Doyoung shouts from where he’s sitting in the bleachers, waving his arms frantically, “ _loosen up and believe in our boys!_ ” 

“He called us their boys, I’m so proud to be one of their boys,” Jaemin gushes, “I am going to make my favorite dads so _proud._ ” 

“That’s the spirit,” Coach Lee agrees, smiling fully now, “I’ll hand it over to Mark now.” He takes a look at the captain, who is currently squeezing Yukhei’s hand and looking pale as a ghost while Yukhei attempts to gently reassure him that he’s going to do _fine,_ and Donghyuck eyes them both with distaste and mutters something that sounds like ‘ _pathetic’._ “That is, if Mark’s uh,” Coach Lee continues, “if he’s coherent.” 

“I don’t think he is, Coach,” Yukhei tells him, “don’t worry, he’ll get there.” 

Coach Lee nods like he’s not so sure about that. 

“C’mon, Markie, get it together, man,” Yukhei chides, “we’ve got a game to play.” Mark nods weakly. Jeno would interject, but nobody can get Mark back on his feet better than Yukhei, so he leaves them be and instead wanders towards the bleachers, looking for a certain somebody. 

He finds Renjun sitting on the highest level, watching the other team warm up with mild interest. When he sees Jeno approaching, he merely raises his eyebrows, the afternoon sunlight glinting off of his glasses and making his gaze tenfold sharper than it usually is. He neatly clips his pen into the pages of his notepad, drumming his fingers in a faint rhythm on the thin stack of paper instead. 

“Hey,” he says, a note of surprise in his voice, “have I been graced with an exclusive pre-game interview with Lee Jeno himself, or are you just here to say hello?” 

“Whichever you like, I guess.” Jeno shrugs. “Are you less confused now? About the game, I mean.” He wonders if his lesson in the library made any sense at all, or if he just rambled incoherently for over an hour. 

Renjun nods thoughtfully, eyes focusing out onto the field again. “I think so,” he says, somewhat cryptically, “not entirely.” 

“Oh, well if you need anything else explained, just- tell me? Wait, I don’t have your number, do I.” Jeno muses aloud, making Renjun’s eyes widen with incredulity. “I mean, you don’t have to give it to me, it would just make things easier, to- communicate, and stuff.” He rushes to recover, “Unless you don’t want any more explanation! I can leave you be, too, if that’s what you-”

“Here.” Renjun cuts him off, handing him his phone and pinning him down with an expectant look. Jeno hesitates, wholly confused at this point; Renjun makes no sense to him at all, but maybe that’s what makes him so interesting. _Is_ he interesting? Apparently, yes. 

He enters in his number quickly, mentally noting the fact that his phone case has pandas on it because it’s kind of cute, in a strictly observational way, and kind of fitting for him, too. 

“There,” he says. 

“Thanks,” Renjun responds, oddly stiff all of a sudden. 

“ _Jeno!_ ” Coach Lee barks, apparently ready to get them out onto the field, and when Jeno looks back the rest of the team is waving for him to return. 

“Go on,” Renjun says, an amused smirk crossing his face when he notices Yangyang, Yukhei, and Jaemin doing the _YMCA_ dance in an effort to grab his attention, “attend to your team, or whatever.” He pauses, holding Jeno’s gaze for a second longer. “Good luck,” he adds. 

“Thanks.” When Jeno smiles at him, Renjun looks away, maybe distracted by the enthusiastic but terribly out of sync dance happening down on the field. 

* * *

The thing about Mark Lee is that it’s really easy, but also wildly incorrect, to underestimate him. 

Jeno thinks they all did, at first- how good could a slight, lanky Canadian guy who uses “like”, “dude”, and “bro” at least once in every sentence be _that_ good at anything in particular, right? But _boy,_ could they have been any more wrong. Mark Lee is a team captain and a pitcher that could probably rival the Riot’s one, the student council vice-president (the only reason he’s not _president_ is because they convinced him to take it down a notch, for his own sake), and a straight-A student. Jeno is aware that the team holds him at the same level of respect as they do Coach Lee, for example, even though they tend to play around with him.

But his one downfall, Jeno thinks, wincing when he has to jump to the side to catch another off pitch, is that he underestimates _himself_ too. 

He can see Mark shaking on the mound, tossing the ball into his glove once, twice, to get his wrist moving, squeezing his eyes shut and muttering to himself, just as he can feel the cocky confidence of the Riot’s first batter dripping from him obnoxiously. Mark gets nervous, he gets psyched out, he thinks he can’t do things when Jeno _knows_ he can, and an intimidating batter like this one isn’t helping his confidence in the least bit. 

It’s Jeno’s job to know these things, to know what stresses his pitcher out and how to get him back on track; the basis and the closeness of their friendship is half-formed by the way Jeno _has_ to be able to read Mark’s feelings, and maybe it’s the reason why he’s almost as close a friend as Jaemin.

It’s after Mark walks three batters that Coach Lee calls for a timeout.

Jeno watches from home plate, the rest of the team drifting about dejectedly at their respective positions because it’s obvious he only needed to speak with Mark, as Coach Lee places a hand on the captain’s shoulder and gently encourages him, eyes soft because _everybody_ knows he has a soft spot for him. Even Donghyuck looks genuinely sort of worried, which means that even _he’s_ prioritizing Mark’s focus over a chance to sub in and pitch for himself. 

Jeno glances up at Renjun for a moment, who’s staring down at the field with a confused expression, and then makes eye contact with Jeno and mouths _what the fuck is going on?_ And Jeno can only shrug at him, which makes Renjun scoff and roll his eyes, although somehow Jeno finds this less offensive and more amusing. 

Mark returns to the mound, taking in a deep breath; Jeno shoots him a little thumbs up and hopes, _hopes_ for the best. _Relax,_ he thinks with all his might, _it’s no different than practice, just relax_ -

And Mark mutters his usual prayer, and Jeno prays it helps him-

And he winds up, his arm curving backwards-

And he throws, and Jeno can sense, at least, that this one’s in the general strike zone-

And there’s a resounding _clang_ and the ball never reaches Jeno’s glove and the batter drops his bat and takes off, but-

There’s a loud smack, and very suddenly Mark is standing on the mound with his glove stretched out in front of him, the ball nestled tightly inside. His eyes are wide, his expression disbelieving, but maybe not as disbelieving as the batter himself, who stands halfway between home and first and looks like he’s about to cry. 

Coach Lee nearly collapses in relief, Doyoung woops loudly in the crowd, and Renjun is scribbling furiously in his notebook once again. 

“ _HELL YEAH MARK!_ ” Yangyang crows from the outfield, doing a horribly imbalanced cartwheel.

“ _THAT'S MY BOY!_ ” Yukhei roars, punching his fist into the air triumphantly and making the runner that’s standing next to him on third base flinch (Jeno suddenly understands Coach’s relief; the bases were loaded due to Mark’s three previous walked batters, and if he hadn’t caught that hit they would’ve probably been four points deep into losing). 

Very slowly, a smile creeps across Mark’s face, and Jeno sees some of that old confidence that’s evaded him so far today returning; maybe they will be okay, after all.

Then again, maybe not.

Four more innings and the Neos are lagging two points behind the Riot, and already their exhaustion is starting to show. Jeno’s legs are aching when he steps up to bat, restlessly adjusting and readjusting his grip and trying not to look the Riot’s pitcher directly in the eye. Jeno knows him by now, after five and a half innings of tough playing, as Hwang, #07 according to the back of his jersey, he’s got terrifying pitching skills and an even worse “death stare” as Jisung had dubbed it, and he doesn’t look like he feels any emotions. He could very well be a robot, honestly. 

Jeno shoulders his bat and focuses on what he needs to do when the pitch comes in, nothing more and nothing less, ignores the feeling of his teammate’s eyes pricking at the back of his neck. Absently, he wonders if Renjun’s watching, too. Sungchan, who shifts around antsily at second base, is most definitely watching, waiting for Jeno to hit the ball so he can run like the _wind._ Jeno could turn the game around, tie it up, if he’s lucky.

The Riot’s pitcher winds up and throws, fast but right in line and Jeno swings but feels his bat cut through empty air. 

_Strike one._

It’s fine. 

Another pitch, straight on again, no dips, no curves, it’s suspicious, really, but Jeno swings again. 

_Strike two._

Jeno inhales deeply, resets his stance. 

The final pitch flies in, and Jeno practically closes his eyes as he swings.

The bat hits, and he runs, and runs faster, and Sungchan is crossing home plate and somehow Jeno is _still_ running, and there’s a commotion as the other team frantically tries to retrieve the ball from wherever Jeno had sent it to, and somehow _he_ makes it all the way back to home plate too. 

The team explodes with triumphant cheers, and Jeno can’t help the warm feeling that blooms in his stomach. _That’s_ a feeling that will never, ever get old.

* * *

When it comes down to it, down to the end of the game, they still lose.

But oddly, it’s not a very bitter loss, because they only lost by like three points. Coach Lee reminds them that when they played the same team last year, they lost by _ten._ So it’s an improvement, one that they should be proud of.

And of course, one that warrants swarming Johnny’s afterwards. 

Before they depart, Jeno slips away from where the team is talking animatedly amongst themselves, save for Mark, who sits quietly against Yukhei’s side and watches his teammates with a faint smile. Jeno knows he’s disappointed in himself, for freezing up at the beginning, and probably thinks that if he hadn’t they would’ve won. _Idiot,_ he thinks fondly, and resolves to talk some sense into him if he isn’t better in a couple of hours.

Renjun is just rising from his seat, folding over the front of his notepad and starting to descend when he sees Jeno approaching. The late afternoon sun gives him a soft glow, and makes him look a little less intense than usual; then again, the way it hits his face lights up the brown in his irises, makes them look more physically on fire rather than metaphorically, which is striking enough in itself. 

“You look weirdly happy for somebody who just lost,” Renjun deadpans, “did you hit your head?”

“We put up a good fight,” is all Jeno says, making Renjun nod thoughtfully. 

“I suppose you did.”

Renjun looks at Jeno in a passive way, a kind of _why are you here and what do you want from me_ kind of way, but not rudely or impatiently. Just waiting, observing, his head at an everlasting, slight tilt, his mouth forever a soft line, simply taking Jeno in. It should be unsettling, but somehow it’s really not. 

“Understand it any better?” Jeno finally asks, “the game, I mean.”

“Kind of,” Renjun admits, “not really. Maybe, maybe I could use another lesson.” He arches an eyebrow. “If we’re pushing it, maybe two.” 

“I can do that,” Jeno confirms, beaming at him. Renjun blinks and looks away, fixing his gaze on something over Jeno’s shoulder. 

“I think your team is waiting for you,” he says, and lets out a tiny sigh. It shouldn’t be so disappointing, for him to be quieter, more withdrawn, but it is; Jeno just has this weird urge, like he _really_ wants to make a Renjun laugh or smile or something. 

“You could come with us,” Jeno blurts out, “to Johnny’s. If you wanted.” 

Renjun hesitates. 

“But,” he fiddles with his notepad paper, “I don’t know any of you.” His voice is quiet, questioning.

“You could, though.” Jeno offers. He wonders if he overstepped a line. They’ve only met one other time, and as much as Jeno’s a social butterfly that doesn’t mean Renjun is too. It’s not that he seems shy, just- reserved, maybe. 

“I could.” Renjun repeats. He thinks for a moment, his foot tapping on the ground, and when he flicks his head to clear his hair out his eyes his glasses slip down his nose. Jeno has the sudden urge to reach over and push them back up, but he doesn’t, for obvious reasons. “I really don't understand why you’re celebrating a _loss._ ” 

“I blame it on the hunger,” Jeno admits. 

“ _DUDE, ARE YOU COMING?_ ” Yukhei’s voice booms across the field. 

Jeno waves Yukhei off, taking a step back from Renjun and giving him space. “You only have to come if you want,” he blunders, because he just _can’t_ think properly when Renjun just _stares_ into his _soul,_ “I’ll leave you alone now, uh-”

“Wait,” Renjun says, fingers closing around Jeno’s wrist so suddenly it startles him, “I’ll- yeah, sure.” Jeno stares at where Renjun’s hand rests on his arm, and watches when he draws it back rapidly, like he’s been burnt. 

“Great,” he chokes out, fighting the sudden urge to run away, do _something._ Instead, he silently leads Renjun to where the rest of the team is waiting, shaking his head in an attempt to clear his head and collect himself. 

“ _Jeno,_ ” Jaemin whines as soon as he returns, drawing out the last syllable of his name, “you can’t just disappear like that, it’s annoying and it holds everybody up- oh?” Jaemin pauses, squinting at Renjun, as if making sure he’s real. 

“Um.” Renjun shifts, eyeing Jaemin and the rest of the team warily. “Hey.” 

Yukhei steps up, and maybe Jeno should’ve thought this through more, because Yukhei stands like, half a foot taller than Renjun and probably still has the whole spy thing on his mind. Which Jeno conveniently forgot to explain to Renjun, because he didn’t think it was necessary. 

It’s quite the standoff, really, Yukhei his tall and lanky self, dressed in his bright green uniform, and Renjun in a soft hoodie, notepad in hand and glasses perched on his nose, his chin tilted defiantly upwards at an impressive angle in order to maintain eye contact. 

Coach Lee is watching the exchange with mild interest, perhaps too tired to care enough to intervene.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me you’re not a spy.” 

Jeno watches visible confusion, followed by realization, followed by mild amusement pass over Renjun’s features. 

“I’m not a spy.” He replies evenly. “Are _you_ a spy?” There’s something like a cocky grin on Renjun’s lips, that grows ever-so-slightly when Yukhei’s eyes widen. 

“You,” Yukhei says, his serious expression breaking in favor of a blinding smile, “I like you.” He pats Renjun’s head lightly, which causes Renjun to shrink downwards in an attempt to avoid the touch. It reminds Jeno of a cat, kind of. Still, Renjun’s faint grin remains, and his eyes sparkle with mirth. 

Any awkward tension that had been present before dissipates as soon as this happens, Mark laughing at Renjun’s expression and Yangyang and Jisung practically bouncing over to him to introduce themselves. Jeno smiles to himself as Donghyuck swaggers over to Renjun and says something that immediately makes him _beam-_ when he wants to be, Donghyuck can be as charming as he wants to be, which isn’t very often, but still- and ignores the faint pang of sadness at the fact that _he_ can’t make Renjun laugh so easily. 

Still, Renjun glances over at him, raising his eyebrows ever-so-slightly in a way that says _maybe you were a little right, this isn't so bad,_ and that odd sadness is already gone because it warms Jeno’s heart to see his team in action, doing what they do best. He’ll tell you that they’re decent at baseball, that they share the same passions, that they’re all working their asses off to win the playoffs for Mark and Yukhei because they want them to have a happy senior year, but what he’ll be most proud to show off is how welcoming and how caring they are. How much they make Jeno feel loved, how comfortable they are to be around, how easily they’ll take in and befriend just about _anybody_ in a matter of minutes because that's just how they are. 

He’s really lucky, he thinks, to have this kind of thing in his life.

And so, as dusk really starts to fall and Coach Lee and Doyoung gently herd them towards the diner, the air is filled with chatter and bickering and enthusiastic game plans for next time so that they’ll be sure to win. For all of his awkwardness, Renjun falls into their rhythm faster than Jeno could have ever anticipated; perhaps it’s Jaemin’s ability to endlessly go on about whatever he feels like talking about, or maybe it’s Yangyang’s enthusiastic interrogation (“ _Woah, journalism? That’s so cool, I absolutely suck at writing, but wow! And about_ us, _too? Did you write anything about me? Hey, that’s a pretty epic drawing!”_ ), but either way his walls almost visibly crumble. 

Even though Jeno just sort of observes it all, having his own odd conversation with Sungchan about the nature of black holes, or something (Sungchan’s an avid astronomy nerd, and Jeno’s too nice to tell him that he doesn’t know a damn thing about space), it’s interesting and maybe endearing how Renjun manages to stay beside him, shoulders occasionally bumping together, even when they cram themselves into their usual seats. Not in a dependent way, or a clingy way, or in any particular _way_ at all, but rather as a point of familiarity, an anchor of sorts. 

“Oh, yay,” Johnny says when he notices Renjun with them, no trace of any emotion in his voice, “another one. I swear you guys multiply every time I see you.” 

“It’s a talent,” Sungchan tells him. 

Jaemin steals at least half of Jeno’s fries, Sungchan diverts his passionate ode to dark matter to Doyoung, who’s apparently got a soft spot for him and tries his hardest to listen, and Renjun asks a few questions to everybody here and there, writing down their answers on his faithful notepad. Jeno notices for the first time that the cover is painted over, vibrant swirls of color winding over its surface in an abstract but mesmerizing fashion, and he wonders if Renjun did it himself. 

Mark passes out on Yukhei’s shoulder as soon as he’s finished eating, and Jeno wonders if his faulty start during the game earlier was caused by more than just nerves. Yukhei seems to share the sentiment, glancing down at his friend with concern. 

“I think it’s time for us to go,” he says, gently shaking Mark awake. The captain blinks sleepily, slowly remembering where he is. Donghyuck rolls his eyes at this, doing something under the table that makes Mark jolt awake.

“ _Ow,_ that was my shin, you asshole!”

“Language, Markie,” Doyoung reminds him with mild disinterest.

Mark, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with more ferocity than necessary, opens his mouth in an attempt to respond, but comes up with nothing; instead, his features shift to something a little sadder, just frowning at Donghyuck. 

“Whatever,” he says finally, “goodnight, guys. 

“I should go too,” Jeno admits, “I have a-” 

Oh. _Right._

“You have a. . .” Jisung prompts gently.

“I have a bio test tomorrow.” Jeno’s voice is faint. He’d forgotten all about it. “Okay, everything’s fine, yeah, I’m just-gonna go, study, all night long, see you all in the morning, uh-”

“I’m good at bio,” Renjun says, matter-of-factly. His eyes glint behind his round glasses.

“Oh, well, you don’t need to-”

“It’s the least I can do.” Renjun presses on, and his message is clear: _I want to get out of here but I have no means of removing myself, send help._ Also, Jeno doesn’t know how he consistently manages to cut him off without seeming rude; maybe he just knows when Jeno’s talking turns to senseless rambling, which is more often than you’d think. 

This is how Jeno ends up with Renjun sitting cross-legged on his bedroom floor at ten at night, hunched over pages and pages of Jeno’s messy notes on the cell cycle with an intense expression on his face. 

Jeno apologizes profusely for how much of a mess it is. It’s home to him, the lamp standing on his bedside table lighting up the room warmly, the walls covered in a mismatched collage of photographs of friends, weird doodles that Ten has bestowed upon him over the years, and posters of all sorts of things, his bedsheets still rumpled and his school things laid out messily on his desk. His mother had taken one look at Renjun and apparently decided he was nothing but an angel, as most mothers would when they set eyes upon a slight boy with neat hair, glasses, and apparently impeccable manners. In response to his apologies, Renjun had simply smiled softly and told him that he preferred things this way, all homey and comfortable. 

Now they're sprawled out on Jeno’s bedroom floor, Jeno panickedly poring over his textbook while Renjun flips through his notes, humming in vague disapproval when he sees the state of them.

“These are so disorganized,” he mutters, “no wonder you can’t remember anything.” He adjusts his glasses and covers his mouth as he yawns. Jeno sits across from him, marveling at the fact that there’s a Renjun in his bedroom at all, but maybe it shouldn’t be so much of a surprise. It’s not like they’re hanging out as friends or anything, he’s just helping Jeno study like how Jeno’s offered to help _him_. It’s an exchange of knowledge, a scholarly meeting if you will, that’s all.

“Sorry,” Jeno apologizes, “I’m not the best note-taker.”

“Evidently.” Renjun snorts. “It takes practice, though, I get it.”

“Science isn’t my thing,” Jeno admits, “or at least, not naturally. It’s really interesting, I just. . . suck.”

“Nobody sucks at science,” Renjun says, “nobody sucks at anything, really. It’s just a matter of figuring out how to do it in a way that makes sense to you.”

“Wise words.”

“I’m a wise man,” Renjun quips back. Jeno almost feels _too_ comfortable.

He’s startled by soft fur brushing past him, as his cat, Bongsik, winds her way into their impromptu study session, flicking her tail against Jeno’s leg and purring before padding across Jeno’s notes to investigate the newcomer. 

Jeno watches curiously as Renjun pauses his reading, resting his chin on his palm and regarding Bongsik with slight apprehension. The cat sniffs at him, tail swishing, before apparently approving of his presence and proceeding to headbutt his knee, resuming her purring. Renjun laughs quietly when Bongsik crawls into his lap, practically vibrating, and promptly falls asleep there. 

“Wow,” Jeno says, “she likes you. She _hates_ Jaemin, and she’s known Jaemin for like, ten years.”

“Jaemin strikes me as a dog person,” Renjun says plainly, making Jeno laugh under his breath. “Your cat is very cute,” he observes, scratching her ears gently, “maybe I’m a cat whisperer.” 

“Maybe,” Jeno agrees.

“Anyways.” Renjun clears his throat. “What are the phases of mitosis?”

“Uh.”

Renjun waits patiently, stroking Bongsik’s fur. This shouldn’t be allowed, Jeno thinks in the back of his mind, Renjun shouldn’t be allowed to be _Renjun_ inside of _Jeno’s house_ being best friends with _Jeno’s cat,_ just like that, as if he wasn’t a stranger like, a week ago. 

He allows it anyways, because he figures he’ll get there eventually. He has to, he decides, because this is. . . it feels nice. It’s not like Jaemin’s company, which is familiar and playful, and it’s not like Mark’s, which is lazier, more relaxed. This is warm and oddly comfortable, this is softer, cozier. 

“Jeno,” Renjun says, pulling him from his thoughts, “you haven’t answered the question yet.” He fixes Jeno with a disapproving frown. 

“Right. Uh, there’s prophase, metaphase, anaphase, and, uh. . .” He scrunches up his nose. “Give me a second.”

Renjun’s hand is covering his mouth now, like he's trying very hard to suppress a smile. 

“Give me a _second_.”

“Think teletubby,” Renjun suggests, very helpfully. 

“ _Oh,_ it’s telophase!” Jeno laughs. “I’m never forgetting it now, wow.” A wise man indeed, apparently.

“It’s all in the approach,” Renjun restates, “if weird connections to cursed children’s shows help you remember, then that’s what helps you remember. Nobody needs to know.” 

“That’s a good point,” Jeno admits, and Renjun grins, his fingers still absently stroking through Bongsik’s soft grey fur; this feels so natural, and at the same time it doesn’t. 

They’re not even friends.

(Are they friends?)

Jeno has always been bad at gauging that kind of thing. He just sort of fell into most of his friendships, Jaemin’s because they’re next-door neighbors and the team’s because they’re a _team,_ but Jeno can’t really tell where the tipping point is with Renjun, where acquaintance-who-trades-knowledge-about-baseball-in-exchange-for-studying-help changes to genuine friend. He doesn’t know why he’s so worried about it, either. 

Eventually, Renjun has to go, but promises Jeno that if he needs more study sessions then he really wouldn’t mind, and Jeno makes sure to set up a time so that he can explain the concept of stealing bases to Renjun. Their relationship is symbiotic in its most basic sense, and that’s okay. 

Bongsik is displeased when Renjun gently lifts her from his lap, and doesn’t stop mewling after him until they reach the front door.

“You’ll have to keep coming back,” Jeno jokes, “she likes you more than me, too.”

Renjun arches a playful eyebrow. “If you insist,” he says, and Jeno’s heart skips. 

It’s dark, and late, and Jeno insists that he should walk Renjun home after he admits to living only a couple blocks away because it’s the good thing to do.

They walk in comfortable silence for the most part. Eventually they reach a neat-looking house, grey painted sides looking like marble in the moonlight, the hedges neatly trimmed and the lawn freshly mowed.

There are no cars in the driveway, but the lights are on. 

“This is me,” Renjun says, his breath forming dainty little puffs that fade away into thin air around him. He stares at Jeno for a long moment, the moonlight glinting off of his dark hair and making it shine silver. “Thank you for walking me home.” His voice is very small.

“No problem,” Jeno says, giving him his best warm smile. The front door opens, and a sliver of warm light paints itself across the shadowed front lawn. There’s a man in the doorway (father? brother?), looking out at them expectantly. 

“Um.” Renjun never _um_ ’s, this Jeno knows already, because Renjun always speaks like he’s reading off of a page- no hesitation at all. Now, he hesitates. “Goodnight. Good luck on your test.” 

“Goodnight,” Jeno says, and waves because Renjun’s already hurrying off up his driveway. 

Jeno waits until the door shuts behind Renjun, swallowing him up inside and leaving Jeno out under the stars, alone and with his thoughts. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, listening to the faint chirp of the first crickets emerging from their wintry slumbers and to the soft coo of an owl somewhere nearby, the quiet rumble of cars on other roads a constant thrum in the night’s background. 

There’s a certain warmth settled in the air around him, refusing to leave even after Renjun is long gone. It remains with him even as he meanders down the nearly abandoned sidewalk, his path lit by the streetlights overhead, while he makes a solitary game out of stepping over all of the cracks in the pavement. 

It lingers even when he wanders past Johnny’s, the sign flipped to ‘closed’ but the lights still on. Jeno pauses when he sees Johnny wiping down the tables inside.

The bell on the door rings softly when Jeno pushes the door open, making Johnny halt his cleaning and turn around. There’s soft jazz music playing from the radio, barely heard over the volume of their voices.

“Can you not read the sign? Pretty sure it clearly says that we’re- oh, hey Jeno.” Johnny immediately loses his frustrated tone once he sees it’s only him, instead dropping his towel onto the table he’d been working on and leaning there. “It’s a little late for you to be out alone, isn’t it?”

“I’m a big boy,” Jeno reassures him, playfully flexing his arm just to prove it.

“Should I ask what you were doing?” Johnny smirks at him.

“What? I was studying, with a- with a friend, don’t give me _that_ look.” Jeno stammers out, making Johnny chuckle under his breath. 

“All of your friends live in that direction, though.” Johnny points out the window to his right. “And you came from _that_ direction.” He huffs, evidently proud of himself. “Plus, you literally live next to Jaemin, Mark can drive himself home, and those are the only people whose houses you actually go to. It’s foolproof, you see.” Johnny winks.

“You know too much about me,” Jeno says, aghast, “it’s creepy.”

“I’ve known you since you were a developing fetus, shut up.” Jeno can’t really argue with that, so he doesn’t object. “You want tea?”

“Sure.”

While Johnny busies himself with the kettle and Jeno pulls out a chair, Johnny continues his interrogation.

“Were you dealing drugs?”

“No, what the hell?”

“ _Buying_ drugs.”

“Oh no, you caught me.” Jeno deadpans.

“As _if_ you have the funds,” Johnny scoffs, “were you, uh. . . at a party?”

“Why do you _care_?” 

Johnny turns the stove on and turns around, raising an eyebrow at Jeno and sitting himselfon the edge of the diner’s countertop. “Because, I’m your dad who’s not actually your dad, and therefore it is my right and my duty to care.”

“No no, Coach Lee and Doyoung are my dads, you’re my weird uncle.”

“Touché, even though there’s a reason those two idiots have cats instead of kids. Which brings me to my next point,” Johnny continues, “of asking you _why you were out so late,_ because I’m _bored_ and your little high schooler life has more flavor than mine, which is sad but true, and-”

“I was walking a friend home, like I said,” Jeno finally relents, “Just, an uh, newer friend.”

“A _ha,_ ” Johnny exclaims, “I know the one. Tiny, glasses, looks like he’s planning a murder?” 

“That would be Renjun, yeah.”

“ _Ooh,_ wha-”

“ _But,_ ” Jeno cuts him off curtly, “he is strictly a friend, John, I swear, don’t you go all suggestive and ‘I’ve been hanging out with Ten for too long’ on me. I’m helping him to study baseball so he can write his school paper articles or whatever, and so he helped me study for my bio test.”

“I don’t like when you call me John, it makes me feel old.” Johnny frowns, hopping down from the counter and pouring his tea when the kettle starts to whistle. “But that would explain your unusual path, yeah.”

“You know him?”

“Eager, are we?” Johnny smirks, sliding him a steaming mug. “He comes in from time to time, orders nothing but hot chocolate, and sits in the corner and does whatever he does in his notebook thingy. Usually alone, but sometimes he brings in this really loud kid, and one time this real pretty boy, but then he broke one of my favorite plates and I cried. Don’t think he was a date, though,” he reassures Jeno, “based upon how much Renjun swore at him for it.”

“I wouldn’t have _cared_ if he was a date, don’t be weird. How do you remember all of this stuff, anyways?”  
“An elephant never forgets,” Johnny says wisely.

“But you’re not an elephant?”

“You get the point.” Jeno doesn’t. “I don’t know, Ten had me watching nature documentaries because he’s into that kind of thing, and apparently elephants never forget things. It’s kind of cool.” Johnny rambles. “Anyways, it's really kind of late, and it’s real sweet of you to walk Renjun home but I will now urge _you_ to go home. Because it’s responsible and I also want your mom to keep sending me her homemade brownies, so I need her to keep liking me.”

“That’s fair,” Jeno admits, standing from his seat. Conversation with Johnny like this always ends with him feeling more relaxed, and since it’s so late that translates to _sleepy._ “Goodnight, then.”

“Night.” Just before Jeno opens the door to leave, Johnny speaks up again. “Oh yeah, and Jeno?” Jeno pauses.

“Hm?”

“You know I’m kidding, about the thing with Renjun- he seems like a good friend, if he’s helping you study already, and stuff.”

Jeno laughs softly. “Dude, I know you’re kidding.” 

“I know,” Johnny huffs, leaning on the counter, “still gotta make sure. Get home safe, will you?”

“I will.”

All the way home, even in the cold and the darkness, that warm, fuzzy feeling never really leaves him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the timeline of this chapter sucks ass but like. oh well. noren are kind of buds?? yay?? is bongsik's adoration for renjun just me pushing the renjun catboy agenda? yes. is jeno truly the most oblivious man on the planet? yes. does me thinking "teletubby" whenever i list through the cell cycle actually help? yes. does this chapter make sense?? no, but i've been plugging away at it for like ages and i want to burn it so here, take it before it makes me cry. it's a weird transitional period between introducing renjun and getting into the juicier plot details so i didn't have much of a plan for this at all, sorry bhvfrhfgrvfh


	5. “Both ‘Dictator’ and ‘Dejun’ begin with a D”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which jeno makes a friend (offically, legally, it's on the record now), renjun.exe has stopped working starting system reboot, jaemin's hobbies are questionable and best left unexplored, dejun is a walking disaster, and jungwoo is the main reason dejun is a disaster

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the french word for seal is phoque and sometimes when im just minding my own business i just suddenly think "what the phoque" help me

Jeno walks to school in the morning with Jaemin like always, since it’s just a few blocks away from their houses, softly discussing anything and everything that comes to mind. There are dark clouds building on the horizon, not the angry sort but the soft kind, and the air feels heavy and dense; it’s going to rain sometime today, and Jeno only hopes it won’t ruin the weather for when they play their next game. 

“So,” Jaemin says conversationally, “have fun the other night?” The way he wiggles his eyebrows let’s Jeno know what he’s implying. 

“Uh, yeah, I guess. As fun as studying can be, anyways.” 

“You  _ walked him home _ .” 

“How do you  _ know  _ that?” First Johnny, now Jaemin, Jeno needs to file a restraining order or  _ something  _ on these people to get them to leave him alone. 

“Do you forget I live like thirty feet across the lawn from you? I see  _ all _ .” 

“Get a life, or something,” Jeno grumbles, “or a hobby, or a new friend.”

“No refunds!” Jaemin chirps, skipping a few steps past him. “You're stuck with me for life.”

“What if you die before me, though?” Jeno asks, rolling his eyes but jogging to catch up with Jaemin nonetheless. 

“Oh, trust me, that won’t happen.” Jaemin lowers his voice cryptically.

“This is why Jisung is afraid of you.”

“Jisungie is  _ not  _ afraid of me,” Jaemin gasps, “I’m his favorite! I  _ raised  _ him!” 

“This is why  _ Sungchan  _ is afraid of you,” Jeno amends, and Jaemin can’t help but agree with that one. 

“So tall, and yet so timid,” Jaemin laments, turning his eyes to the sky and sighing heavily, “he’ll warm up to me eventually.”

Mark and Donghyuck meet them once they arrive at school, falling into step with them easily; some cruel twist of fate landed Mark and Donghyuck on the same street, which is about a street away from Jeno and Jaemin’s street, which is like, a block away from Johnny’s and two blocks away from the school. There’s not much concept of  _ distance  _ in a town like theirs, not that Jeno minds it much, but for others, perhaps it’s not the best thing. 

Jeno’s surprised to see the two of them walk in together, considering Mark usually drives himself and Donghyuck walks, but when he asks, Mark simply grumbles, “car’s in the shop” and covers his mouth as he yawns. Jeno should ask him how much sleep he got last night, but it’s an old and useless question, and so he settles for ignoring the darkness beneath the captain’s eyes and making sure to check that he’s at least got a water bottle (he does, though Jeno doesn’t know if he’ll remember to do the actual  _ drinking water  _ part). 

“Aw, sleepy boy,” is what Jaemin says in response to Mark’s tired state, hooking his chin over the senior’s shoulder, “you really need to lay off on the work, man.” 

“Yeah, you just  _ have  _ to be the best at everything, don’t you?” Donghyuck adds bitterly. Jaemin glares at him, and Mark just sighs. Donghyuck leans against a locker, crossing his arms over his chest and mumbling something incoherent. 

“Hey, hey,” Jaemin warns them sternly, “don’t make me get out my  _ ‘get along _ ’ handcuffs again.” 

Donghyuck gasps, and Mark’s eyes widen comically. “You would  _ never. _ ” 

“Ah-ah, don’t be so sure,” Jaemin taunts, “I still have them. What, you don’t wanna be handcuffed to Mark for a few hours, see what happens?”

“ _ Fuck  _ no,” Donghyuck growls, punching Jaemin in the shoulder and flushing red, “you win, whatever. I have to go to class.” He leaves, stomping away and leaving Jeno and Jaemin standing by the lockers. 

“Me too,” Mark mumbles, staring off in the vague direction that Donghyuck went as he gathers up his things and starts to follow, “Good luck on your test, Jeno.” 

Once he leaves, Jeno turns to Jaemin. “Do you really still have the handcuffs?” Jeno asks, watching Donghyuck disappear into his chemistry classroom, still looking flustered. 

“Yup,” Jaemin says, grinning his best devious grin, “you never know when they might come in handy.” Jeno shudders. 

“You’re so weird,” Jeno tells him, and Jaemin just blows him a kiss. 

“You love me.” 

“Every day I ask myself why.” 

* * *

It starts to rain while Jeno’s taking his test, anxiously spinning his pencil between his fingers and staring down at his paper, wracking his brain for information about the cell cycle; the harder he tries to remember what he’d gone over last night, the more he finds he can’t remember, led off track by stubborn thoughts of Renjun under the soft lighting of his bedroom, Renjun with Bongsik in his lap, lots and lots of Renjun and very little biology. Still, he thinks he ended up doing okay, much to his relief. 

When the bell rings, the weather has picked up to a complete downpour, and Jeno shudders at the thought of being outside in it. He  _ hopes  _ that the weather gets better by tomorrow, anyways. As he’s making his way towards the front door of the school, hoping that Jaemin has waited for him- and maybe that he has an umbrella, or something- a sign on one of the doors he passes catches his eye. 

Jeno pauses by the door; the sign on it says  _ Newspaper Club! We meet on Wednesdays from 2:00 pm to 3:30. Contact us by emailing djxiao@smmail.org.  _ Jeno stares at the sign for a while. It’s Wednesday, and also about 2:15 in the afternoon. Logically, there would be people (Renjun?) inside.

What he doesn’t expect when he opens the door is the utter chaos that he steps into; it’s kind of a small room, a bunch of desks shoved together in a vaguely table-like formation, piles of what he assumes to be old issues of the paper sitting on most available surfaces. Most students are sitting at the desks, typing away at laptops or scribbling away in notebooks, but there’s one who’s frantically milling about the place, creating enough commotion by himself to stop Jeno in his tracks.

“O- _ kay, _ ” the pacing boy says, running a disgruntled hand through his hair and passing by where Jeno is standing in the doorway without noticing him, “I’m pretty sure we’re running behind schedule-”

“We’re  _ always  _ behind schedule.” A second boy, who has his feet propped up on his desk and an open bag of chips in his hand, points out. 

“-shut up, Jungwoo, and at least  _ pretend  _ like you’re doing something productive, will you? Ever consider the fact that your habit of turning in the layout at the last second is one of the reasons  _ why  _ we’re always behind?” The boy, Jungwoo, just snorts a laugh and pops a chip into his mouth. “ _ Anyways, _ ” the first boy continues, “you all realize that the deadline is tomorrow?  _ Tomorrow? _ ”

“Say it one more time for me,” a girl in the back says, “I didn’t quite get it the first  _ twenty times  _ you’ve told us.”

“If I had the power to kick you out, you’d be gone, Yeji,  _ gone. _ ”

“Enough.” A familiar, gentle voice rises from the crowd, and suddenly Renjun appears from where he’d been sitting, hidden in the back of the room. He places his hands on the pacing boy's shoulders and pushes him down into a chair, despite a slight struggle to get him to do so. “Stop haranguing everybody within five feet of you, it’s  _ going  _ to get done. Right?” He addresses the rest of the room, his stern gaze sweeping over the clusters of students. 

“Right,” Jungwoo says with his mouth full. 

Jeno grins when Renjun’s eyes suddenly flick back to meet his, widening almost imperceptibly behind his glasses.  _ What are  _ you  _ doing here?  _ Jeno just shrugs.

Once things settle down, Jeno maneuvers his way to Renjun’s desk.

“What are you doing here?” Renjun asks him without looking up from his computer screen; he’s not typing, but his fingers brush across the keys in a rhythmic motion. 

“Bothering you at your extracurricular activities like how you bother me at mine.” 

Renjun glances upwards. “Do I bother you?” 

“Huh? No, no,” Jeno reassures him, “I was joking, don’t worry.” 

“I’m aware.” Amusement glimmers in Renjun’s eyes. 

“You’re terrible,” Jeno groans, and Renjun laughs softly. Placing a hand on the desk, he leans over to take a closer look at what Renjun is doing. 

“My segment,” Renjun explains, “about you guys.” 

“I feel famous.” 

“It’s not much yet,” Renjun admits, shrugging bashfully. “It has to be done soon, though, or Dejun’ll have me beheaded or something.”

“Can I read it?” Jeno asks, tilting his head down to look at Renjun for permission; when Renjun looks up to answer him, he realizes that his leaning over the desk has put him in a bit of a compromising position, and their faces are far closer than he intended them to be. Renjun’s response dies in his throat, and instead he coughs lightly and lowers his head back down. Jeno shifts away, and pretends that nothing happened at all, and everything is absolutely  _ fine _ . 

“Not yet,” Renjun says finally, “it’s not good enough.” 

“Ah, okay.” Jeno wants to reassure Renjun that whatever he’s writing has got to be great, but he doesn’t have the chance, because suddenly there’s a hand tapping his shoulder.

“Who are  _ you? _ ” 

Maybe, if the boy- the one who’d been passionately ranting about the deadline when Jeno came in- wasn’t so stressed out and frazzled, Jeno might’ve thought him something very close to beautiful. From a very objective standpoint, he has perfect features, glorious, yes,  _ glorious  _ eyebrows, and expressive eyes, but the effect of his looks are somewhat dampened by his utterly bewildered and frustrated expression.

“This is Dejun,” Renjun explains to Jeno blandly, “usually, he’s really nice, but he’s cranky because he's tired. And because ‘ _ none of us are qualified to work for any quality newspaper _ ’, like we’re not all high schoolers with nothing better to do.” He makes air quotes with his fingers and says this in a mocking tone, and Dejun steps on his foot. “Just watch out, he has no filter when he’s tired. Dejun, meet Jeno, Jeno meet Dejun.”

“Some respect would be nice,” Dejun rolls his eyes, “kids these days, so disrespectful. Like Jungwoo, he’s the epitome of disrespect.” 

“And here I was, thinking you loved me.” Jungwoo sighs dramatically from across the room. “Want a chip?”

“I hate him,” Dejun informs him, deadly serious. Jungwoo just laughs and spins in his chair, giving Jeno a cheeky wink and a salute. “Anyhow,” Dejun rounds on Jeno once more, “I know you and Junnie have your cute little thing going or whatever, but I won’t stand for you being a  _ distraction. _ ”

“I, uh-”

“You heard me. Renjun’s one of my best writers, and I need him compensating for the rest of these idiots, so no matter how obnoxiously cute you are, I’m gonna need you to back off.” 

“ _ Hey,  _ I-”

“ _ And, _ ” Dejun holds up a finger, halting Jeno’s failed attempt at an interjection once more, “I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You see, this is an official workspace, and we can’t have any old person just  _ waltzing in  _ as they please.”

“Both ‘Dictator’ and ‘Dejun’ begin with a D,” Jungwoo sing-songs, “leave the poor guy alone.” 

Dejun closes his eyes and inhales deeply, looking as though he’s either about to commit a murder or evaporate on the spot. When he reopens them, there’s a steely sort of glint in them, and Jeno has a feeling that he’s chosen murder.

“I’ll be back,” he warns, and stalks away to where Jungwoo is smirking back up at him, apparently proud of the way he’s riled him up.

“So that’s Dejun,” Jeno says faintly. 

“I promise he’s usually calmer.” Renjun reiterates, shutting his laptop and shoving it back into his bag, “but I suggest we run away while we can.” 

“Rebellious,” Jeno remarks, “I like it.”

Renjun leads Jeno out of the classroom as subtly as he can, successfully sneaking them both past where a passionate Dejun is loudly educating Jungwoo on the importance of “respect for his editor” while Jungwoo spaces out and stares at the wall. 

It’s much quieter in the hallway, the chaotic flurry of conversation shut behind the door and leaving only the silence between the two of them. If Jeno listens hard enough, he can hear the wind and the rain beating relentlessly against the walls of the school.

“It’s so stressful in there,” Jeno says leaning himself against the wall for a moment, “I don’t know how you deal with it.”

“Dejun’s off the walls because he’s graduating, head of the paper, and he’s playing Mercutio in  _ Romeo and Juliet  _ next week. Therefore, he has to take it out by being stricter than usual, when he’s not practicing getting fake stabbed or whatever.” Renjun rolls his eyes, but Jeno sees some affection there, hidden behind the disdain. “Give him two weeks and he’ll be a completely different person.” 

“So he's like your version of Mark?” 

“Exactly, except it seems like Mark can actually keep it together.” 

Jeno laughs- Renjun  _ did  _ miss the night when Mark cried over next to nothing, after all- and Renjun smiles. Inside the room next to them, he can just barely hear Dejun’s monologue continuing, but in the hallway it’s quiet and empty. Everybody’s already left, and Jeno would usually walk home with Jaemin, but- he glances at Renjun- he’d gotten distracted, apparently. 

Renjun clears his throat quietly, winding one of the straps of his backpack around his finger. “How’d your test go?” 

Jeno takes a moment, mostly because he forgot that he’d had the test in the first place. “It went okay, I think,” he says honestly, “at least, I remembered all the phases of the cell cycle, which is an improvement.” 

“I’m glad.” 

They stand in the hallway. The clock on the wall ticks, Dejun’s muffled soliloquy drones on, the rain patters on the rooftop, and Jeno leans against the wall, the surface cool against his skin. Renjun pointedly readjusts his glasses, and Jeno wonders why the conversation can’t just flow like it has before. 

“Jeno,” Renjun says suddenly, “are we friends?”

Jeno chokes on air for no reason in particular. “I-I mean,” he says, faltering beneath Renjun’s inquisitive stare, “if you, I mean, wanted? To be?” Jeno swears he knows how to make friends, he  _ does.  _ He usually thinks himself pretty good at it too, so  _ why _ -

“Only because I initially came to you for- for business matters.” 

“Business matters,” Jeno repeats faintly.

“But,” Renjun continues, fiddling furiously with his backpack strap, “I want to- would like to- I enjoy being, being around you.” He pauses, squeezing his eyes shut for a second before refocusing on Jeno; for once, the flames that engulf him are weaker, gentler, and again Jeno is stricken by how unnatural it seems to be for Renjun to be  _ vulnerable _ . 

“You know,” Jeno says, unable to suppress his smile, “most people don’t need to ask permission for friendship, but I’ll take it.”

“Don’t make fun of me,” Renjun huffs, “I’m bad at this kind of thing.” 

“We could get matching t-shirts,” Jeno offers, enjoying the exasperated grin that breaks through the intent blankness of Renjun’s expression, “I’ll update my relationship status to ‘Huang Renjun’s Friend’, just to make it official. I’ll have to break up with Jaemin,” he adds seriously, fighting to keep the amusement off of his face, “but I’m sure he can find another friend, somewhere.”

“I take it back,” Renjun declares, smacking him lightly on the shoulder, “the friendship’s been revoked.”

“ _ Hey, _ ” Jeno pouts, “you can’t do that, it’s only been thirty seconds!”   


“Record time, then.” 

From inside the newspaper room, Dejun’s voice emerges suddenly, louder than before. “ _ Where  _ did Renjun go? He can’t just  _ leave  _ in the middle of a meeting, I- Jungwoo this isn’t  _ funny- _ ”

“What do we do?” Jeno whispers panickedly. 

“ _ Run _ .” 

They do, and somehow they’ve ended up in the library, holed up in the same sheltered corner where they first met. Oddly, it feels like it’s been much longer than just a couple of weeks since then. It’s dimmer than usual because of the grey skies outside, but the contrast of the weather and the warm lights of the library intermingle to produce a much cozier feeling than Jeno expected; he still doesn’t like libraries very much, but maybe, just maybe his opinions are beginning to change.

“It’s really coming down out there,” Renjun observes, frowning. He’s kind of right; the library windows are obscured by the rain, and the rhythmic sound of it pattering against the glass reverberates gently around the entire room. “Would they ever call the game tomorrow off?” 

“You underestimate the stubbornness of everybody in charge of who decides that kind of thing.” Jeno laughs, tracing his finger absentmindedly through the condensation gathering on the window. “I don’t think they will, and besides, maybe it’ll let up by tomorrow.” 

“That doesn’t sound safe,” Renjun points out. 

“No, it’s fine,” Jeno reassures him, “the only time it’s  _ unsafe  _ is if there’s like, thunder and lightning. Because metal, bats, you know.” He gestures vaguely with his hands, to which Renjun raises a skeptical eyebrow. “It’s just muddy, in the rain. Which is kind of fun, to be honest. One time, it  _ was  _ raining so badly that Coach Lee almost fought the other team’s coach to get him to call the game off though, which was interesting.” Jeno rests his chin on his palm and leans slightly across the table. “Why, are you  _ worried _ about me?” 

“I am worried for the welfare of my fellow students, yes,” Renjun replies, determinedly staring down at his half-finished drawing of a tree, if that's what it is at all. Jeno can’t tell, it’s upside down, but either way it looks pretty cool.

“I’d be more worried about you, to be honest,” Jeno admits, watching Renjun tip his head back up to meet his eyes. “I get to run around- you’ll just be sitting there, in the rain.” 

“I think I’ll live.” 

“You know, you probably don’t have to go to  _ every  _ game,” Jeno tells him gently. “It’s gonna be nasty out, you just said it yourself. I can fill you in afterwards, anyways!” 

Renjun regards him with something like skepticism, amusement, and mild offense rolled up into one, eyes glinting behind his glasses in a way that’s familiar to Jeno by now. It usually signifies that Jeno’s said something that Renjun finds funny, maybe because he’s terrible with words and everything that comes out of his mouth is nonsense and maybe because Renjun’s simply on a higher plane of intelligence or something. Jeno wouldn’t be surprised, anyways.

“I am  _ coming,  _ especially now. Just to spite you.” As if in accordance with him, the wind sends an extra fierce lash of rain beating against the window beside them. 

“Do you  _ want  _ to get soaked, just for the hell of it?” 

“Maybe.” Renjun smiles mischievously.

Jeno’s phone buzzes. It’s Jaemin, informing him that he’s at Jeno’s house and that Jeno is “legally obligated” to allow him to sleep over because his mom already said yes anyways and he’s “snuggle deprived”. 

“Jaemin broke into my house,” Jeno tells Renjun casually. 

Renjun blinks, evidently thrown off. 

“Don’t worry, that’s normal behavior,” Jeno reassures him, “he knows where my spare key is. And my mother loves him more than me. And he knows how to pick the lock on my window. The more I think about it, actually,” Jeno says thoughtfully, “the more I realize how weird it is.”

“It’s a good thing you’re on his good side,” Renjun informs him gravely. “Do you allow all of your friends to break into your home?” 

“No, but- well, one time Mark tried because Donghyuck dared him, but he ended up falling into a bush. So not really.” 

“Right,” Renjun says slowly, nodding and most likely attempting to process this new information. “Are you leaving, then?” 

“He can wait a minute or two, he’ll survive.” 

“If you’re sure.” Renjun frowns. 

“I’m extremely sure,” Jeno tells him, “I see too much of Jaemin for my own good, honestly.” 

They’re interrupted only when Dejun manages to track them down (“he’s like a hound,” Renjun says with amazement, “you can’t get  _ anything  _ past him.”). He snatches Renjun up and smiles sweetly at Jeno, telling him  _ just give us a moment, please,  _ and Renjun mouths  _ run while you can, save yourself,  _ and so Jeno decides to take his leave.

* * *

“Took you long enough,” Jaemin says when Jeno walks through the door (of his  _ own  _ house, no less), “where even were you, on a date or something?” He’s sitting at Jeno’s kitchen table, scrolling through his phone and swinging his legs. 

“N-no,” Jeno protests, wincing at how he stutters, “I was just talking to Renjun, for a minute.” 

“For an hour,” Jaemin corrects him, pointing triumphantly to the clock over the stove and grinning widely. 

“Don’t get any ideas,” Jeno tells him sternly, “every new friend I acquire is  _ not  _ an automatic boyfriend.” Jaemin follows him upstairs and into his bedroom, where he throws down his backpack and startles Bongsik off of his bed. 

“Oh, sorry,” he apologizes softly, watching her scamper out of the room. 

“Demon cat,” Jaemin claims, laying down in her place and making himself comfortable. 

“You’re just mean.” Jeno throws a stuffed bear at his head, and Jaemin yelps as he tries and fails to dodge it. Considering he plays shortstop, he should probably have better reflexes when it comes to that kind of thing. 

“Anyways,” Jaemin continues, hugging the bear, “how was Renjun?” 

“Good,” Jeno says, “I went to see him in the newspaper room and that was interesting. I guess I got distracted,” he admits bashfully, “oops.”

“Cute,” Jaemin says, making Jeno roll his eyes. “No, really, have you taken a good look at the guy? Fucking ethereal.” He sighs dreamily, in a way that almost makes Jeno’s stomach twist with a feeling he can’t identify. Maybe it was the sandwich he ate at school earlier? 

“I’ll make sure to tell him that,” Jeno deadpans, and Jaemin simply cackles, because he has no shame at all. 

It’s been a while since they hung out, just the two of them, he realizes- their junior year has overwhelmed them with more work than ever before, and when they’re not studying they’re practicing harder and harder in hopes of actually  _ winning  _ something this year- and it feels comforting, nostalgic even, to sit side by side on the couch in Jeno’s basement and do nothing but watch movies and talk. 

“Do you think,” Jaemin starts thoughtfully, leaning sleepily against Jeno’s shoulder, “we’ll all be friends still, after we graduate and stuff?” 

“This is an oddly deep conversation topic considering we’re literally watching  _ High School Musical. _ ” 

“Humor me,” Jaemin says drily before continuing, “like, Mark and Yukhei, they’re literally leaving after this summer. Gone like,” he snaps his fingers, “ _ that _ . And then when me and you and Hyuck go, we’ll all be in different places.” Jeno can hear his frown. “It’s weird to think about. And,” he adds hesitantly, “kind of scary.”

“Is that what this is all about?”

“What what’s all about?” Jaemin asks innocently. 

“I’m just saying,” Jeno explains, “I know you’re spontaneous or whatever, but you don’t usually spring last minute things on me like this. Y’know, you don’t need an excuse to talk about serious stuff.”

“You know me too well,” Jaemin mutters, “but. . . maybe, yeah. Sorry.”

“I don’t mind.”

“To be fair, I also just wanted the free cuddles, you human space heater,” Jaemin adds, wrapping his arms around Jeno to prove his point, “and I don’t even want to talk about it that much. I know we’ll all be fine, it’s just- it’s intimidating, I guess.” 

“It is,” Jeno agrees, “I try to avoid thinking about the future too much. Or the past. I avoid thinking in general, actually.”

“That explains a few things,” Jaemin jokes. 

He falls silent for a moment. On the TV, Chad and Ryan argue about whether Chad can dance or not. Jeno always liked this scene, but mostly because it occurs on a baseball field.

“Thanks for being here,” Jaemin adds quietly. Jeno glances down at him, his face half buried in his shoulder, wrapped up in a blanket; sometimes he really does still look like the Jaemin he made friends with at five years old, because he stole Jeno’s favorite toy shovel and Jeno chased him down to get it back and somehow, somehow they ended up reconciling. Now’s one of those times. 

“Anytime,” Jeno responds, and doesn’t ever get a response because the next thing he knows, Jaemin’s snoring softly against his shoulder. He’s always kind of been like this- doing a sort of dance of avoidance around anything too serious, branding himself as the jokester, the one who’s always ready with something ridiculous to say, in an effort to make sure everybody else is as content as can be. Jaemin tends to keep things bottled up until he can’t anymore, and Jeno wonders if he’s so tired because he’s kept himself up thinking about it, worrying about the future. He really hopes not. 

It’s still raining outside. The noise of it, combined with the audio of the movie and Jaemin’s gentle snores, fill the room around him with a strangely soothing sort of cacophony, easing his own worries about what’s to come for all of them. It’ll all be okay, in the end, he hopes. They’ve still got almost two years of high school left. 

And after all, a whole lot can happen in two years, can’t it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is really bad i know sorry sorry i had a better plan for this chapter but it was better to cut it and make it a different chapter. i also wanted to develop nomin's friendship a little more oopsies. also jungwoo is lowkey my favorite character he wasnt initially planned to be in the paper squad™ but i added him on a whim and i think he fits in wonderfully. dejun is probably ooc as fuck but there is no man better suited to his role than him ok.


	6. “And to think he got himself a man before me, too. Tragic, I tell you.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which jeno's attempts to be gentlemanly, do NOT be fooled renjn's a con artist he knows excatly what he's doing beware beware, jaemin is the only reason jeno functions at all, johnny defends his territory with all he has, and yukhei commits many pizza sins, and ten has a mystery boyfriend??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> good evening

“I cannot believe I’m doing this for you.”

Jeno sits helplessly on his bed, legs crossed and Bongsik purring in his lap, while Jaemin rifles through his drawers, pulling out whatever clothing he sees fit and tossing it haphazardly into a duffel bag that lies open on the floor. 

“You literally insisted,” Jeno points out, “you told me that if I was ever allowed to live by myself I’d die within a day because I can’t perform simple life tasks, and now you’re packing my bags for me.”

“Was I wrong?” Jaemin retorts without turning around. “Now tell me if I’m forgetting anything, I’ve got shirts, shorts, baseball pants, contacts, spare glasses ‘cause you lose everything, your allergy medicine, a charger- oh, _oh,_ pajamas would be helpful, hold on. . .”

“Why are we even packing?” Jeno asks, while Jaemin plunges back into his dresser to search for suitable nightwear, apparently. “We’re not leaving for like, another day or two.” He glances at where the rain still patters steadily against his bedroom window, where it has been for a while now. They have yet to play in the rain, they’ll burn _that_ bridge later today. 

‘Oh, _I_ haven’t packed yet,” Jaemin reveals, aggressively shoving a pair of sweatpants into Jeno’s bag, “I’m just doing yours because I know you won’t until five minutes before we leave, and I’ll forget if I don’t do it now.” He zips up the bag triumphantly. “Okay, you should be good.”

The team is set to attend an overnight training camp this weekend, one that Coach Lee had enrolled them all in in an attempt to get them a head start before the playoffs. Jeno’s excited, mostly because all of them sleeping in close quarters has _got_ to produce some good blackmail material, and because he’s convinced that lovely, gentle Sungchan’s inner chaos probably pops out at around two in the morning.

“Na Jaemin,” he proclaims dramatically, “I love you, very much. Marry me.” 

“Not even a ring?” Jaemin scoffs, “In your dreams.”

“My nightmares are what you usually feature in,” Jeno tells him sweetly.

“We’re divorcing.”

“As long as I can keep custody of my baby.” Jeno shrugs and lifts Bongsik up like she’s in the beginning sequence of _The Lion King,_ to which she meows in soft protest. Jaemin gives him a disgusted look. 

“Please, get it out of my sight.”

“She’s perfect in every way, you’re just an anomaly,” Jeno pouts, placing the cat gently down on the bed and letting her walk off, “she likes _Renjun_.”

“Then you two have something in common,” Jaemin snorts. Before Jeno can ask him what _that_ means he tosses him his bright green jersey so that it lands unceremoniously on his head. “Now get ready, I _refuse_ to be late because of you.” 

Jeno has just barely tugged his uniform and a jacket on when a distinctive honk sounds from outside; Yukhei had offered to stuff as many of them as he possibly could into his car so that they wouldn’t have to get wet until they actually play, and Jeno is glad to take him up on it, because somehow it’s still raining and they’re _still_ slated to go through with the game. 

When Jeno and Jaemin clamber into the back row, effectively stepping on Yangyang, Donghyuck, and Jisung and squishing Sungchan in between them, they’re met with very mixed moods. Yukhei, for one, looks very stressed, muttering something about hydroplaning under his breath and double checking that everybody has their seat belts buckled.

“We’re driving like, two blocks,” Yangyang scoffs, “you’re not going to crash, dude.”

Donghyuck pretends to make a call on his phone. “Mom, come pick me up, I’m scared,” he says loudly, making Yangyang cackle.

“Everybody shut up, he’s trying to be _safe._ ” Mark reprimands from the front passenger seat, even though he looks like he’s trying not to laugh, too. 

“If he was gonna take three hours to drive to the field _,_ I would’ve walked,” Yangyang insists.

Mark and Yangyang seem happy about the rain; Mark claims he likes the ‘vibes of it, bro” and Yangyang says it makes him feel like he’s in a sad music video. Sungchan looks less than pleased, Jisung is trying to hide in his hoodie like a turtle, and Jeno knows from personal experience that Jaemin treats being out in the rain like how a cat reacts to being put into a bathtub. Which is to say, he despises it. 

Eventually, they start driving, if at a record slow pace, and eventually they make it to the field. There are very few people watching, maybe four or five huddled up in the bleachers with umbrellas and raincoats. Jeno wonders if one of them is Renjun.

They tumble out of the car in rapid succession as soon as Yukhei parks, letting out a relieved sigh and slumping against the wheel, and all of them collectively wince when the cold rain hits them. The other team is starting to arrive, looking intimidatingly stylish in grey uniforms and seeming formidable as they warm up on the muddy field. 

Customarily, Jeno jogs up to the bleachers in search of his newly acquired friend, wondering whether the threat to spite him had been empty or not. 

He really expected nothing less than what he sees before him now.

“You really came,” Jeno says, only mildly surprised, since he _had_ claimed to want to come out of spite, after all. Renjun looks sort of small, a little hunched against the rain and the light wind. There are droplets speckling his glasses despite the partial cover his umbrella gives him, and the ends of his hair are starting to curl against his forehead. 

“Well, yeah.” Renjun gestures to his notebook. “It’s kind of my job.”

“But it’s _cold._ ” 

“If you can handle the cold, _I_ can handle the cold,” Renjun points out, fixing him with a skeptical look. “I’m literally going to get kicked off of this field if you keep coming over here to see me, go do your baseball. . . things. . .” Renjun grimaces. “I’m doing fantastic at remembering the terminology, aren’t I?”

Jeno suddenly has an idea. 

“Here.” He shrugs off his jacket, holding it out in front of him. “At least uh, at least take this.” Renjun merely blinks. “Just because,” Jeno blunders onwards, “I mean, I don’t need it and I would feel bad if you, you were cold, just sitting there. So-”

“Thanks,” Renjun says, cutting his hopeless rambling short, “I think.” He examines the jacket skeptically, the fabric bunched up in his hands. It’s colored their signature, horrific neon green, and it has _Lee_ embroidered in white on the shoulder. 

There’s an awkward beat of silence in which Jeno stares determinedly at an empty spot on the bleachers and Renjun, undoubtedly, stares right at Jeno. Jeno doesn’t really get how he can just _do_ that, nor does he know why he suddenly feels so shifty, so flighty. He would’ve given the jacket to literally anybody, so why does it feel strange now?

“I gotta go,” he blurts out, using the excuse of Coach Lee’s frustrated gesturing in order to get away from Renjun, escape from his piercing stare. Renjun’s soft ‘ _bye_ ’ is almost drowned out by the wind and rain, but not quite, and by the time Jeno really registers it, he’s already halfway across the field. 

Coach Lee gathers them up in a manner suspiciously similar to that of a mother duck gathering up her many ducklings- Jeno says ducklings because ducklings are small and very simpleminded, and tend to trip over things when they walk and bump into objects regularly, which makes the comparison all the more accurate- in their team’s dugout. 

“Boys, you will literally never guess what team we’re playing today.” 

Coach Lee’s clipboard is covered in a protective sheet of plastic and his demeanor is tense and somewhat annoyed. 

“Who are we playing, Coach?” Jisung prompts him. 

“They’re called,” Coach Lee says with a tired flourish, “the _Hurricanes._ ”

“Hilarious,” Jaemin mutters drily next to Jeno, shrinking away from the rain like it burns him. Jeno wraps an arm around his shoulders, silently attempting to shield him from some of it for as long as he can.

“I was going to say that our odds are pretty good,” Coach Lee continues, “we’re over halfway through the season, and we’re doing great. You should all be proud of yourselves.” He has to raise his voice to be heard over the rain. “But at this point, I just want you to try your best to play as normal as possibly. It’s gonna be a _mess,_ but try to have fun out there, ‘kay?”

“It’s only not fun if we make it not fun,” Mark points out, “just uh, don’t complain about the rain, and everything will be fine!”

“Easier said than done, cap,” Sungchan grumbles, attempting to curl his very tall body beneath the limited space under Jisung’s coat. The problem is that Jisung is still _wearing_ the coat, causing a rather awkward looking kerfuffle in which Jisung is blushing furiously and Sungchan doesn’t seem to notice at all, far too busy in his attempt to escape from the cold. 

Coach Lee takes a long look at all of them, and Jeno belatedly realizes that they must look like quite the collection, all of them sitting miserably, dampened by the rain, in the wet grass, less like they’re waiting to play a game and more like they’re waiting for their execution or something. 

“Okay,” he sighs, “this isn’t going to do.” 

“Oh _no_ ,” Donghyuck says.

“We’ve made a mistake,” Yukhei agrees. 

“Five laps, around the field,” Coach Lee orders, “now.” 

“But it’s _raining!_ ” Jaemin whines, collapsing against Jeno dramatically. 

“You have to get used to it somehow,” Coach Lee claims. 

“Up we go,” Jeno tells a struggling Jaemin, hoisting him to his feet, “you have to play _sometime,_ might as well make it now.” 

Frankly, running in the rain is miserable. Jeno is made aware of how badly he needs a haircut when his soaked hair continually flops into his eyes. The spikes of his cleats just dig up the grass and mud and send it flying, and he has to squint through the rain to see where he’s going. 

The first time he passes by the bleachers, he glances up to where Renjun is sitting, a subconscious action at this point. Relief is the first thing he feels, because he didn’t know if he’d accidentally offended Renjun somehow and also he just wanted him to be warm and cozy while suffering through this game from hell, and then he notices that it’s kind of big on him and just the tips of his fingers show from beneath the sleeves, and it swallows him up in such a way that makes him look even smaller than usual, and _then_ he proceeds to run directly into Sungchan’s back. 

“Jeno, what the hell!” Sungchan yelps, tripping over himself as he runs. The holdup causes a traffic jam of sorts in which Jeno crashes into Sungchan and Jisung crashes into Jeno, and then Yukhei and Yangyang run into Jisung, and so on and so forth. 

“Sorry!” 

Jaemin gives him a _look,_ and Mark just frowns at him. He doesn’t look back up in that certain direction for the rest of the game.

It’s a safety hazard, as of today. 

* * *

“Today’s the day I die,” Donghyuck announces, tearing off his helmet after scoring a run and collapsing onto the bench next to Sungchan, “I’m gonna get bronchitis, or pneumonia, or _both,_ and die. This is the end.” He runs a hand through his damp hair, shakes some of the mud off of his pants, and wrings some extra rainwater out of his shirt. 

“Can you get bronchitis and pneumonia at the same time?” Sungchan asks thoughtfully. They watch Yangyang step up to bat, the spikes of his cleats sinking into the muddy mess next to home plate. Coach Lee, wrapped up in a raincoat, leans intently against the fence separating the dugout from the field, watches him intently. 

In between innings, Coach Lee has been openly muttering about how the heads of the league are “idiots” for not cancelling this game, perhaps especially protective because half of his team is shivering when they’re not playing and the other half can barely keep their footing in the mud. Jeno will have to agree with him; the rain pelts down and makes the entire experience pretty miserable, and even Mark’s previous admiration for the weather has turned sour. 

Jeno refuses to look at the bleachers- why, exactly, he doesn’t know- but resolves that he needs to be as focused as he can in order to be even a half decent catcher in these conditions. Mark’s pitches aren’t as accurate as usual because he keeps slipping as he throws, and the longer Jeno crouches behind the plate, the more he feels like he’s slowly sinking into a puddle of mud. 

“If any of you get sick, I’ll personally fight the sickness out of you,” Coach Lee threatens after Donghyuck and Sungchan’s respiratory illness debate, “we’re doing too well, and it’s too far into the season. I need you all in top shape, or _else_.” 

“Terrifying,” Donghyuck comments, “I’ll be sure to tell that to pneumonia when it comes knocking at my door.”

Jeno watches grimly when Jaemin attempts to steal third base, making a run for it as soon as the Hurricane’s pitcher lets go of the ball; he narrowly makes it, diving through the mud in order to reach the base on time. For all of his resistance to the rain, Jeno thinks, Jaemin’s forgotten about it for now; they all have, for the sake of the game. 

By the time the sixth inning or so rolls around, they’re all freezing and exhausted, and holding the lead by a single point. Coach Lee looks a little mad, but not at them; he’s pacing in between innings, muttering something about _dangerous playing conditions_ and _having a goddamn word or two_ with the higher-ups in the league. 

Jeno’s muscles ache with both tiredness and with cold as he pulls his catching gear on for yet another round in the field. 

“Hey, Jeno,” Coach Lee says before he steps out of the dugout. 

“Yeah, Coach?”

“I think I’m going to give Mark a break for the rest of the game, okay? Gives Donghyuck a chance to use his skills for once, and I’d rather your captain not break an ankle in this mud.” Jeno nods slowly, understanding this. 

“I’ll be ready for that then, Coach.”

“I’d let you off the hook too, but there’s nobody else that can pull this off for us.” Coach Lee pats him firmly on the shoulder, and a proud sort of warmth blooms in Jeno’s chest. “But speaking of which, I should probably find somebody willing to catch for us after you’re gone- you think Yangyang would be willing?”

“Yangyang likes nothing more than the freedom to run around in the outfield,” Jeno admits, “I’d try Sungchan, maybe.”

“Maybe,” Coach Lee agrees, and takes off to inform Mark and Donghyuck of this news.

The muddy, ruined ground beneath Jeno’s feet squelches uncomfortably as he walks onto the field, unshielded from the rain and out in the open. He can hear it patter lightly against his helmet when he catches Donghyuck’s hand in a halfhearted high-five. 

Donghyuck looks elated, of course, raring to go, hasn’t had the _chance_ to pitch for real in ages, and if Jeno looks at him for long enough he can almost forget about the miserable weather. 

“Just like we practiced,” Jeno tells him, punching him lightly in the shoulder; Donghyuck anxiously tosses the baseball in his hands, endlessly placing and replacing his fingers on the crimson seams. 

“ Just like we practiced,” Donghyuck agrees, and then they’re off. 

* * *

Jeno thinks it’s probably illegal, but Johnny won’t let them inside of his diner. 

In retrospect, it makes sense, it truly does, but in the moment they’re tired and wet and hungry and _really_ don’t feel like they’ve won at all. 

“Nope,” Johnny says, leaping to his feet as soon as he lays eyes on them and herding them aggressively out of the diner, “out, _out._ I don’t feel like mopping the floors today, and you’re all wet and,” he shudders, “ _muddy_.”

“Please,” Jaemin pleads, pushing against Johnny in an attempt to force his way inside, “we’re so cold, and hungry, and _tired-_ how can you say no to such sweet, innocent boys?” He gestures to Yangyang, who immediately puts on his best pout and flutters his eyelashes like he was born to act. 

“No,” Johnny repeats sternly, unaffected by Yangyang’s charms, “away, out, gone, _now._ ”

“We’re gonna _starve!_ ” Sungchan whines.

“You know how to cook.”

“Debatable,” Jeno tells him, “Mark once almost burned down his house cooking eggs, and Jisung literally doesn’t know how to use a microwave.”

“There’s a lot of buttons, okay?” Jisung protests softly. “It’s overwhelming.”

“And Yukhei thinks that folding pizza like a taco is acceptable,” Donghyuck adds, “which it _isn’t_.”

“ _My pizza-eating habits don’t concern you!_ ” 

“You’re a menace to society,” Donghyuck tells him, poking him aggressively in the chest. Yukhei pouts, rubbing the spot he poked with a hurt look on his face.

“Mean,” he accuses.

“What do you want me to do, kiss it better?” Donghyuck rolls his eyes, and Yukhei smirks.

“Sure, why not?”

“ _Anyways,_ ” Mark says loudly, turning back to Johnny, “it’s still raining, and I’m cold as hell, so if we could make a decision _kind of_ soon, that would be great.” Maybe it’s because he’s freezing and his hair has taken on the appearance of that of a drowned rat, but Jeno swears that the captain looks annoyed. 

“You have _parents,_ make _them_ feed you,” Johnny tries, desperately defending his doorway, “go bother them, not me.”

“But I don’t _want_ to.” Yangyang protests. 

It’s just then that Ten saunters up to the diner’s doorstep, lightly twirling an umbrella. He looks oddly done up, wearing his hair swept to the side and a nice coat over his shoulders. 

“What has _you_ all fancy for once in your life?” Yangyang asks his brother, evidently confused. 

“I had a date, asshole,” Ten says smugly, whacking Yangyang upside the head as he passes by. Johnny lets Ten inside the diner without a problem, and Yangyang stares after him in disbelief. 

“Who would go out with _him_?” Yangyang says faintly, dumbfounded. 

“I ask myself the same question every day,” Johnny agrees solemnly. “And to think he got himself a man before me, too. Tragic, I tell you.” 

“ _Hold on,_ why did you let him inside?” Jaemin accuses, pointing at where Ten is lounging at the counter. 

“Because he’s not dirty!” 

Yangyang lets out an incredulous huff. “I see how it is,” he says woefully, “we’re picking favorite siblings now.” 

“Hey, to be fair I only made friends with _one_ of you.” Johnny points out smoothly.

“ _OUCH!_ ” Ten crows from inside. 

“I’ll remember this,” Yangyang says threateningly, looking about as _threatening_ as a newborn kitten, “you sleep with one eye open, John.”

“Don’t _call_ me John, for the last time!”

They never make it inside the diner, but Jeno sticks around long enough to see Yangyang commence a Liu sibling civil war; eventually the freezing rain (now just a drizzle, but cold nonetheless) and the dampness starts to make Jeno shiver, and the cold starts to feel like it’s seeping all the way through to his bones. 

“How did it go?” His mother asks him once he’s inside the house, still dressed in her work clothes and with her house keys in hand; evidently, she just got home. Which is partly why Jeno is standing in the entryway right now, dripping wet, but he doesn’t mind it. He understands why she has to work, after all.

“Went okay, I guess,” he says, shrugging noncommittally. She sighs, fussily toweling off his hair and telling him to take off his shoes, which have absorbed water like a sponge over the course of the day. 

“Always so humble,” she tuts, “I’m so sorry I couldn’t drive you there, you know how it is with work.”

“S’okay,” Jeno mumbles, “Yukhei offered to drive us anyways.”

“I love that boy,” his mom says, “so polite, and so _handsome._ You should have him over more often.” 

“I’ll try, I guess,” Jeno tells her, laughing at her forwardness.

Once she’s satisfied with her toweling, she pushes Jeno towards the bathroom. “You take a shower now, I don’t want you getting sick, especially with that training camp of yours coming up.”

Jeno wholeheartedly agrees with this sentiment, and smiles gratefully at his mother before disappearing into the bathroom to take that promised shower. 

Showers are great places to think, he thinks, ironically while he’s in the shower, which as he’s established previously is a _great_ place to think. The hot water and the steam works to drive the bone-chilling cold from his skin, but Jeno has a feeling he’ll be shivering for the rest of the night. 

Showers are wonderful to think in because there’s very little distraction, at least once you’ve gotten bored of reading all of the ingredients on the shampoo bottles ten times over. So Jeno mulls over the game, critiques the things he could’ve done better, is proud of Donghyuck for pitching well and proud of Mark for _letting_ him. He briefly thinks about the instance of the jacket and Renjun, and decides that he was experiencing some pre-game jitters, which is why he was so distracted. He thinks about Coach Lee’s subtle compliment, and wonders who’ll take his place after he graduates next year, and he very vaguely wonders who Ten’s dating because he was under the impression that it was Johnny, even though it’s very apparent now that it’s not.

He shuts off the water.

Enough thinking, thinking’s tiring. 

He dries off his hair and pulls on his warmest clothes, throwing himself down onto his bed with a tired huff. Outside, the clouds are beginning to recede, allowing soft slivers of blue sky to appear in between them and casting a greyish light on the streets outside. Tentatively, a single bird sings to the storm’s end. The duffel bag that Jaemin packed for him is in the same place that he left it, sitting pleasantly full in the corner of his room. They'll be leaving tomorrow. 

Today’s been long, though, exceptionally long. 

Just as Jeno picks up his phone, he finds he’s received text from Renjun, of all people; his stomach feels a little strange, all of a sudden.

**Renjun** : 

Congrats on winning!

Just one thing.

You forgot something. 

Jeno laughs to himself, only because _of course_ Renjun texts with capitalization and punctuation, like a certified sociopath. Of course. 

**Renjun** :

[sent a photo]

Aha. 

Right. 

In their rush, he hadn’t even had time to say goodbye to Renjun, much less retrieve his jacket. 

He stares at the photo for maybe an embarrassingly long time, not weirdly or anything, maybe just out of shock, or surprise? He often takes Renjun as the shy type; he’s really not. He’s in that strange space between confident and awkward, softspoken and outgoing, but not really fitting into one category or the other. Jeno can’t define him, and he finds he doesn’t feel the need to. He’s just Renjun. 

Which is why maybe it shouldn’t be so much of a surprise that Renjun’s taken the liberty of sending him a cheeky sort of snap, angled in such a way that Jeno can see the distinct colors of his jacket, can see the reflection of the light in his glasses and the soft grin on his face. 

**Renjun** : 

should i bring it over?

Right, he needs to respond, he needs to say something, he- this shouldn’t be such a big deal. At all. 

He doesn’t really want to admit it to himself, but Jeno is a weak, weak man. 

He’s cute.

It’s a fact, Jeno decides quickly, it’s _science_ . The sky is blue, grass is green, the sun is a star, Renjun has an exceptionally cute face. Facts, undeniable, simply true no matter how you feel about them. _Lots_ of people are cute. Jaemin’s cute. Jisung’s adorable. Even Yukhei can be cute when he wants to be. It’s not abnormal to notice these things, he swears. 

(He’s never been very good at science anyways).

Jeno drops his phone face down for a moment, exhaling a deep breath. 

Everything’s fine. 

Everything’s okay, everything’s good, don’t think about it too hard. 

Bongsik jumps onto his bed and proceeds to sit on his chest, staring at him judgmentally. 

“Don’t give me that look,” he tells her. She simply twitches her whiskers, unimpressed. 

**Jeno** : 

no it’s ok lol 

it’s still raining 

**Renjun** : 

ok

It ends like that. 

“I have a feeling,” Jeno tells his cat thoughtfully while she kneads her claws into the fabric of his sweatshirt, “that I’m about to have a problem on my hands.”

She doesn’t respond. Most likely because she’s a cat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is around the time in my writing process where i think everything sucks and i need to rewrite absolutely everything so like bear with me if it actually is bad hrggghrggh 
> 
> honestly this dynamic makes me so soft. i picked a pairing on purpose that i like didnt know existed so that id have to just make everything up myself, and tbh it has me loving writing this a lot. obv noren is a thing i just did not know. the jacket segment is completely self indulgent im just soft thinking about renjun lookin tini in jeno’s big jacket ok shhhhh let me be. also also also im having a mental battle between going with the usual chenji or braving the vastly unexplored frontier of jisung x sungchan because i think their characters are both adorable. i dont care if has no basis, im literally writing a sports rom com starring kpop idols, i can do whatever the fuck i want if i'm already in this deep !! jichan nation starting today who's with me !! tall soft shy boys unite !! 
> 
> anyways im feeling sentimental tonight so uh thank you guys a whole lot for being here, even for a little bit. this is like my safe little corner of the internet and one of the very few places removed from all of the things that make me awfully anxious and stuff, so just ! thanks for reading n hangin out with me i guess ! i love you all i wish i could give you a hug ok. unless you don't want one which is cool, a fist bump or a really fancy handshake also does the trick. case in point, you r the best, never forget it, goodnight <3


	7. “The irony of this situation is impeccable.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which jeno’s past decisions backfire on him terribly, taeyong has an existential crisis, jaemin isnt THAT weird ok come ON why would you think?? there's anything out of the ordinary about him??, donghyuck is scarred, this was supposed to be doyoung's vacation but HERE HE IS, yuta operates at the velocity of a subway train only, renjun returns The Jacket and maybe does some other things who knows, kun makes some soup??

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay everybody. on your preferred music streaming platform please pull up time of our life by day6. yes this is required, no you may not proceed until you do. okay now close your eyes. and imagine to the best of your ability these characters getting introduced in stereotypical tv theme song fashion while the song plays. perhaps it's more of an anime intro. either way. done? thank you that is all, please continue (and stan day6)
> 
> also be warned the time is so wonky in this i was really excited about it and the transitions are mediocre but. this bad boy clocked in at a 6.4k aka double my usual chapter but i dont feel like splitting it so. you get an extra long one this week, as a treat. iw didnt beta this at all bc it was 1:30 in the sexy am hours when i published it and i was. too tired to care. so if u find any glaring errors i am so sorry whoopsies

“Are we there yet?” 

“Yangyang, I can and _will_ throw you out of this bus.” 

This is how it’s been going for the past two hours. 

The training camp is being held at a location way out in the country, which means that the team has been piled into a bus that’s been winding through endless fields and rolling hills for hours and hours on end. They boarded the bus at the crisp, early hour of _six o’clock in the morning_ and have been on the road ever since. Just now, the sun is starting to shine on the treetops, casting a golden glow upon the countryside all around them. This doesn’t take away from the fact that nobody wants to be awake this early. 

(“ _Early to bed, early to rise-” Yukhei had chanted._

_“-makes a man fucking pissed off.” Donghyuck had concluded, earning himself a scolding from Coach and a hearty laugh from Doyoung)._

“Hey, look,” Mark says, pointing out the window, “there’s-”

“If you say cows _one more time,_ ” Jaemin warns from where he’s hugging his bag to his chest and attempting to nap, “I’ll end you, Mark Lee.” 

Jeno leans his head against the window, watching the scenery roll by. There _are_ a lot of cows, mostly because they’re cutting through the deep countryside and what else is there in the countryside besides a lot of cows and the occasional flock of sheep? Still, the view is pretty, and Jeno shifts so that he can take a picture of it because Renjun likes those kinds of things. 

“Je _no,_ ” Jisung mumbles faintly, clinging to his arm tighter than before. Jeno apologizes softly for disturbing him, and lets him snuggle back into his shoulder, content to fall asleep again. Ever since that first bus ride, this has become somewhat of a routine. Jeno doesn’t mind it, because Jisung is a good seat buddy; he isn’t loud, he doesn’t snore, he doesn’t even talk that much, though he _is_ prone to being clingy in his sleep. 

“Hey,” a soft voice whispers from the seat behind him. Jeno does his very best to turn around without waking Jisung again, craning his neck around so that he can meet Sungchan’s worried eyes; Sungchan’s seated next to a tired-looking Donghyuck, who’s watching a video on his phone and probably wouldn’t notice if the bus crashed. “Are there gonna,” Sungchan asks quietly, “are there gonna be other teams at the training camp?” 

“I mean yeah, I think so,” Jeno tells him, keeping his voice low, “why?”

Sungchan glances around furtively. “I don’t know,” he says, “that’s just a, a lot of people. New people.” 

“You won’t get lost or anything,” Jeno reassures him, “it’ll be fine.” 

“Okay,” Sungchan says, not sounding convinced, “if you say so.” 

“You don’t have to talk to too many new people if you don’t want to, I promise.” Jeno softens his tone. “Stick with me, or Jaemin, or Donghyuck maybe, and you’ll never have to say a word. _Especially_ Jaemin,” he jokes.

“True.” Sungchan laughs quietly. “Thanks, Jeno.” 

After what feels like an eternity, the bus finally pulls into the parking lot of what seems to be your classic summer camp-type establishment, complete with a cluster of cabins off to one side and a larger, main building on the other, and sprawling fields lit up by the morning sun behind it all. There are other buses pulling into the camp, what seems to be endless streams of kids and coaches clambering out of them, all congregating in a constantly shifting mass of old friends reuniting and new friends being made.

It’s _exciting,_ and the sight of it is enough to start to pull Jeno out of his sleepiness. He shakes Jisung’s shoulder gently, ignoring his mumbled protests. 

“Time to wake up,” he tells him, “we’re there.”

“Already?” Jisung doesn’t open his eyes. 

“Yeah, already, and I can’t get up until you get _off_ of me, so hurry up.” 

Eventually, Jisung is coaxed awake; Jeno watches Sungchan, younger than most of them but somehow far more responsible, simultaneously push a half asleep Donghyuck down the bus aisle and pull Jisung out of his seat, before standing to follow him. 

They haul their bags out of the back of the bus (“ _Jeno,_ ” Jaemin complains, “it’s only fair that if I packed your bag, you get to carry mine!”) and Coach Lee directs them into their cabin for the weekend. 

It’s kind of cramped, considering it’s supposed to house an entire team, but Jeno figures they’ll make it work somehow. A few small windows allow natural sunlight to stream in, and a pairs of bunk beds line the walls along with shelves for them to store their belongings. Yangyang and Donghyuck race inside, calling aggressively claiming top bunks and nearly bowling Coach Lee over in the process.

“Hey, I’m older than both of you, _I_ should get a top bunk!”

“Yeah, well,” Yangyang shrugs, “should’ve been faster, then.” He’s claimed his spot and is now leaning cockily over the railing that’s most likely been put in place to keep him from plummeting to the ground. “I mean,” he offers to Yukhei, “you could fight me for it.”

When Yukhei draws himself up to his full height, he somehow still manages to be at eye level with Yangyang. “Do you really wanna do that?” 

“I mean, right now I have the high ground, so really,” Yangyang lists, “if I play my cards right, then I can probably win from pure tactical advanta-”

“I give up.” Yukhei pokes Yangyang in the cheek somewhat affectionately, “Keep it, and don’t say any more big words, _please._ ”

Coach Lee sighs heavily, opening the cabin door, slipping inside, and closing it behind him. 

“Okay, a few ground rules so that nobody dies, because I don’t want to do the paperwork. Or deal with lawyers.” He shudders, as if the thought of lawyers unsettles him greatly. “You’re all, uh,” he glances at Yangyang, “decent kids, so I don’t think I need to give you that many warnings. Just refrain from physically fighting each other, _yes_ that’s aimed at you, Donghyuck, don’t be too noisy, and lights out at ten o’clock. There’s no room for me to sleep in here, nor do I want to, so I’m putting my faith in Mark that he’ll at least _attempt_ to keep you in line.” Mark nods seriously. “And Yangyang, quit leaning over that bunk bed rail or I’ll restrict you to the bottom bunk, _don’t_ give me that look it’s for your own safety, and- I think that’s it.”

“You look kind of stressed, Coach,” Jaemin points out. He’s right, Jeno realizes- Coach Lee has been pacing back and forth ever since he began his safety speech, and his hair is mussed from running his hands through his hair so many times. 

“I am,” Coach Lee admits, “only because I’m like- _fully_ responsible for all eight of your tiny little lives. My annoying little children, whose parents will all murder me if I send any of you home with anything more than a scratch. I graduated college like, two years ago,” he says faintly, “all I have is a degree in human physiology and a husband who somehow hasn’t left me yet, and-”

“Oh no, he’s having an existential crisis again, isn’t he?” It is precisely then that Doyoung walks in, very stylishly coordinated and sporting some very cool sunglasses. He observes the team, who’ve congregated awkwardly to stand around their coach while he talks to them, and then huffs a quiet sigh. “Sorry guys, he’s just _very_ worried about keeping you all safe, which is very cute of him and all, but not good for his mental state, apparently. We’re gonna be right next door, so if you need anything, we’ll be there.” He turns to his husband, who looks vaguely pale and spacey, and gently leads him out of the cabin, murmuring something about how _it’s okay, Yong, I swear you’re a great coach and they’re all going to survive the weekend, I promise._

“Well,” Donghyuck says once the door closes behind them, “I feel really safe, don’t you?”

Sungchan nods sagely. “I’m so glad our coach is so composed.”

The cabin door opens again, and Coach Lee’s head pokes around the doorway.

“One more thing, Su- _let go of me Doyoung this is important-_ Sungchan brought his inhaler, right?” Coach Lee looks to be struggling, most likely against Doyoung attempting to pull him away, Jeno guesses. Sungchan gives the inhaler a demonstrative puff. 

“Always got it, Coach.”

“Good,” Coach Lee says breathlessly, “you’d better tell somebody if your asthma is-”

“ _He can handle it, Taeyong, he’s a high schooler!_ ”

“I’m just _making sure!_ ”

* * *

As soon as they’ve settled on who gets what bed, and after Coach Lee has collected himself and is back to normal, they end up out on the fields behind the cabins. They’re not doing any actual playing today, and the afternoon is designated to allowing the teams to get to know each other. Which is how Jeno finds himself standing beneath the warm sun of late spring, a cool breeze carding through his hair and carrying the scent of something that smells suspiciously like barbecue.

Jeno is sitting cross-legged in the grass, playing a very halfhearted game of catch with Sungchan, basking in the warm weather; half the team (namely Yukhei and Donghyuck) have presumably gone off to socialize with the other teams. 

“Hey, look,” Jaemin points out from where he’s using Jeno’s thigh as a pillow, “there’s a bird in the sky.” 

“That’s where birds usually are,” Sungchan remarks.

“I don’t think you want me to look up right now,” Jeno admits, catching another toss from Sungchan, “I’m the only reason you haven’t gotten hit in the face by a ball yet.” 

“My second prettiest feature,” Jaemin agrees, “it needs to be protected.”

“Wait, what’s your first?”

Jeno grimaces. “Sungchan I hate to say it, but you really set yourself up for-”

“My _personality,_ ” Jaemin announces loudly, smacking Jeno’s thigh, “you really think so lowly of me.” Jeno thinks about the ‘get along’ handcuffs, and decides he sort of has good reason to. 

“ _IS THAT LEE TAEYONG?_ ” A loud shout cuts across the field, startling Jeno and making Sungchan leap approximately a foot off of the ground. 

About a second later, a blur of blond hair rockets out of the crowd, barrelling directly into Coach Lee. Jeno blinks, mildly disoriented by the speed at which this occurs, and recognizes the creature latched onto Coach Lee as a _human_ about a second later than he should have. 

“Long time no see, loser!” The man exclaims, punching Coach Lee in the shoulder good-naturedly and smiling a brilliant smile. He’s wearing a sports tank-top and a pair of sunglasses that fall from his forehead and onto his nose when he bounds across the field to greet them, his bleached hair flying wildly in every direction, and Jeno thinks he has the demeanor of an overexcited golden retriever. “And you too, Doie!” He then proceeds to tackle Doyoung in a tight hug, almost knocking him off of his feet. 

“Everybody, this is our old friend Yuta,” Coach Lee explains, pulling the man off of his husband by the back of his shirt, “he’s coaching one of the other teams participating in the camp.” 

“Yup,” Yuta chirps, throwing a friendly arm over Coach Lee’s shoulder and beaming at them, “that’s Coach Nakamoto to you, thank you very much. Nice to meet you guys!” Jeno and Jaemin wave easily at him and Sungchan stumbles over a greeting, and Yuta laughs happily at them, his energy apparently boundless. “Let’s all have fun today,” Yuta tells them, “no competition here! Not yet, anyways.” He winks. “Just saying, I think my team’s _pretty_ good this year.” 

“I suppose we’ll just have to see about that,” Coach Lee says with a wry smile. “This is Jeno, Jaemin, and Sungchan,” he introduces them, “the rest of them went. . . somewhere.” He grimaces. “They’ll come back eventually. I hope.” 

“Yeah, hopefully.” Yuta winks again (Jeno can’t understand what the winks mean, he’s just _winking_ ), and leans on Coach Lee’s shoulder, turning to talk into his ear. “Really, it’s been a _while,_ ” he sighs dramatically, “I’ve barely seen you since the wedding, _honestly_ things get so busy. . .”

Eventually, night falls over the field, and Coach Lee starts to herd them back into their cabin. There’s promises of a bonfire tomorrow night, and the skies are completely clear; Jeno since they’re so far out in the countryside, the stars are completely visible, and blanket the night sky in a twinkling mosaic that he can’t help but stare at for a little while, at least until Donghyuck complains loudly about mosquitoes and gently shoves him inside. 

“Lights out by ten, I _mean it,_ ” Coach Lee threatens, glaring at all of them. “And at least try to be quiet? There are other people sleeping around here.” 

“We’ll keep it down, Coach.” Mark reassures him. “Right, guys?” There’s a chorus of over-enthusiastic agreement. Coach Lee doesn’t look convinced. “I hereby give Mark the executive power to do whatever he wants to keep you in line.” He pats Mark’s shoulder. “Goodnight, guys, and remember, I’m waking you up bright and early tomorrow, so I _gently_ advise you to get some decent rest.” 

He shuts the cabin door behind him, leaving the team alone, finally. 

Silence, and then. 

“How fast do you think we can tie Mark to a chair?”

Donghyuck sighs loudly. “I find out a new kink of Jaemin’s every day, and I hate each one more than the last.” 

“So you’re saying that you _wouldn’t_ complain if I-”

“ _Children!_ ” Jeno yelps, clapping his hands over Jisung’s ears, “ _There are children here!_ ”

Jeno finds out that eight people in one cabin, all with their own individual nighttime routines, is a terrible, terrible thing. Donghyuck nearly fights Sungchan for the bathroom, claiming something about his skincare being of the utmost importance, Mark is ganged up on by Jaemin and Yangyang for wearing socks to bed because _that’s weird, dude free your toes, what the hell,_ and watches Yukhei try to climb up to one of the top bunks only to hit his head on the ceiling. By the time everybody is settled, they’ve almost surpassed their curfew.

“It’s ten o’clock.” Jisung points out, gesturing to the clock on the wall. “Should we go to bed now?” 

“Oh, sweet, sweet Jisung,” Jaemin coos, patting the freshman’s head and sauntering over to where the light switch is situated on the wall, “where’s the fun in that?” 

He flips off the light, plunging them all into complete darkness. 

“ _Jaemin!_ ” Is the collective shout of displeasure.

There’s a lot of shuffling as various teammates lunge for their phones or their flashlights; somebody that sounds suspiciously like Yukhei yelps in pain when someone else, most likely Sungchan based on his hurried apology, bumps into him, and Mark accidentally whacks Jeno in the face. 

There’s another click, and Jaemin’s telltale cackle, and he’s holding a flashlight beneath him so that it illuminates his face in such a way that makes him look more maniacal than usual. 

Then, the lights turn on, momentarily blinding Jeno. 

“ _Hyuck,_ ” Jaemin whines, “that’s not fair, I was having fun!” 

Donghyuck’s hand rests on the light switch, his hair rumpled and his eyes looking as though they’ve seen far too much. “It stopped being fun when I accidentally touched Yangyang’s ass,” he grumbles. 

“Okay, but was it a good ass?” 

“ _No!_ ” 

“You just have no taste,” Yangyang proclaims, “Sungchan thinks I have a good ass, right?” 

Sungchan pauses, staring at Yangyang in utter disbelief. “No.”

“Nobody will be discussing Yangyang’s ass,” Yukhei interjects in a moment of uncharacteristic maturity, “ _including_ Yangyang.”

“Okay, but,” Jaemin cuts in, his eyes sparkling with mischief, “what do we do?”

“Sleeping is an option,” Mark points out, hiding a yawn behind his hand. 

“I can’t believe you’re all ruining my moment here,” Jaemin pouts, “we have the entire team in a cabin, alone, no supervision-”

“ _I’m_ the supervision,” Mark reminds him, but looks like he’s not so sure that position is going to stand for much longer.

“- _no supervision,_ and you want to go to bed on time? Nobody wants to like, I don’t know, play a game? Not even a weird one, a normal one?”

This is how the entire team ends up sitting in a circle on the cabin floor, a pile of multicolored cards thrown haphazardly in the middle.

In retrospect, Jeno thinks they really should’ve known that Uno was a bad idea. Playing solely by the light of their collective phone flashlights so as to not get in trouble, the game is almost concerningly intense.

Sungchan throws down a card triumphantly. “Draw four,” he tells Jaemin. 

Jaemin shrugs, tosses out an identical card. “Nice try though.” He turns to Donghyuck, smirking. 

“You thought, asshole.” Donghyuck puts down a third card, and Jisung, next in line, looks like he’s about to cry, panickedly brandishing his already massive collection of cards. 

“You’re kidding me,” he sniffs, “twelve? Twelve more cards? Can I quit yet?”

Jeno, who’s spectating because he finds himself developing a sharp headache, watches Sungchan lean around Mark and gently shuffle through Jisung’s hand until he finds what he’s looking for. Jisung puts the card down and Mark groans. 

“Why’d you help him?” He laments as he proceeds to draw sixteen cards from the pile, effectively doomed from winning the game. Sungchan just shrugs, grinning softly.

Jeno starts to feel tired after Donghyuck wins the first round, a sort of fogginess settling around the front of his mind and making his eyes feel heavy. He ends up leaning his head on Yukhei’s shoulder sleepily, since he happens to be the closest and has a reputation for being warm and soft to nap on anyways, tuning out the heated Uno commentary (“How are there no yellow cards in this _entire pile_ I’m about to _lose it._ ”).

Suddenly, he sneezes, startling himself and Yukhei alike.

“Woah,” Yukhei says, his eyes wide, “you okay there, dude?”

“Yeah, it’s just allergies.” Jeno reassures him. 

Later, when the lights go out for real (before midnight, as asserted my Mark), Jeno’s lying in his bunk, staring at the parallel boards that hold the mattress above him up; he considers the possibility of it breaking and him dying the painful death of being crushed by Donghyuck, but brushes it away, because whenever one sleeps in a bottom bunk they’re required to think about being fallen on at least once, or else what’s the point?

If he turns over, the moonlight filtering in through the window lights up the bed across from his just enough that he can see a tuft of Sungchan’s hair poking out from beneath his covers, and the dinosaur plushie that he has tightly held in his arms. Donghyuck is already snoring softly overhead.

Jeno sneezes into his elbow again, wincing when his skull seems to throb dully. 

“Jaem,” he calls out in the silent cabin, “you packed my allergy pills, right?”

“Front pocket of your bag,” Jaemin mumbles from across the cabin. 

“Like a married couple,” Yangyang points out from some other nondescript location in the dark, “disgusting.”

“Go to sleep, you literal _toddler_ , it’s past your bedtime.”

* * *

It isn’t allergies. 

This is something Jeno realizes as soon as he has the immense displeasure of waking up in the morning, immediately becoming aware of his splitting headache and stuffy nose, the telltale soreness in the back of his throat. 

“Good morni- _wow,_ dude, you look like shit,” is what Mark says when he passes by his bed to wake him up. The team captain pauses, frowning, to get a better look at Jeno’s pathetic state of existence. “Are you like, feeling okay?”

“Do you really need me to answer that question?” Jeno asks him, his voice scratchy and raw. Mark grimaces apologetically, then places a hand on Jeno’s forehead. 

“Okay, so,” he concludes after a moment, “I have no clue whether you have a fever or not.”

“Thanks.”

“I think you should go tell Coach,” Mark tells him. Jeno doesn’t want to _move_ at all, he wants to fall back asleep and not wake up until at least two days from now, and he _really_ doesn’t want to have to face Coach Lee and tell him that he’s _sick._

Fortunately (whether it’s _fortunate_ or not is debatable), the door to the cabin swings open precisely then, and in walks Coach Lee himself. 

“ _Wakey wakey,_ kids!” He hollers, knocking two metal bats together so that they make a loud clanging noise. The safety of this method is questionable, but hey, it’s working, because now Jeno won’t be able to sleep _or_ hear past the ringing in his ears for a few days! 

“ _Nooo,_ ” Sungchan mumbles from beneath his covers, “five, _five_ more minutes.” 

“No can do,” Coach Lee chirps, looking far too excited for- Jeno checks the time on his phone blearily- _five in the morning,_ “you have an hour for breakfast and then it’s time to _train,_ so get out of- what happened to Jeno?” 

“The plague,” Jeno says, sneezing again. Coach Lee’s expression falls so quickly he almost feels bad. “Sorry,” he adds. 

“Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault,” Coach tells him, patting him on the shoulder and frowning deeply, “but my God, kid, you’re not looking too hot. How do you feel?” 

“Headache, stuffy nose, sore throat,” Jeno lists, “the whole package.” 

“Evidently.” Coach Lee sighs. “You come with me,” he tells Jeno gently, “and the rest of you had _better_ be dressed and ready to play by the time I come back.” 

“Yes, Coach!” 

Outside the air tastes fresh in that way that’s unique to early mornings, the campground dotted with teammates chattering happily amongst themselves, pairs playing catch, coaches catching up after a long while apart; the air smells of breakfast foods and is filled with happy sounds, laughter and the telltale smack of baseballs landing in gloves interwoven with gleeful birdsong. Really, Jeno would be enjoying this a lot, if the pounding headache and the sore throat weren’t putting a damper on the entire experience. 

“Where are we going?” Coach Lee leads Jeno to the main building of the site, and Jeno feels kind of out of place because he’s still in his pajamas and there are boys all around him already running around and playing catch and being generally functional. He doesn’t really feel like he can handle anything past a walk, anyways; every step he takes makes his head hurt a little bit more, and he feels like he can’t breathe through his nose at all. 

“The infirmary.” Coach Lee informs him. “I _knew_ this was going to happen to at least one of you,” he adds, pinching the bridge of his nose frustratedly, “never should’ve allowed you all to play in that kind of rain. It’s a miracle only one of you caught a cold, but still,” he sighs, “it’s my fault, really.”

“So you’re not. . .” Jeno asks between sniffles, “like, mad?”

Coach Lee pauses. “Why would I be _mad?_ ”

“Well,” Jeno blunders, “I don’t know, it’s just, I can’t play now, and-”

“Jeno,” Coach Lee says steadily, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I really hope you’re just delirious from a fever, because I should _hope_ I’ve drilled it into all of your heads that your health is much more important than whether you play or not.” He bends over just a little bit just so that he can match Jeno’s height and look him directly in the eyes. “You understand that, right?” 

He’s very serious, which is an odd thing for Jeno to see because Coach is usually sporting his unique mixture of bubbly energy (speculated by Donghyuck to be his true personality) and endless sarcasm (a side effect of being married to Doyoung, also speculated by Donghyuck, who’s obviously a professional at this kind of thing). 

“Yeah, I do, Coach,” he reassures him faintly, and then pulls a tissue out of his pocket to blow his nose.

“Good.”

The infirmary is a small room situated near the back of the campsite, farthest away from the fields and the cabins, and it consists of a few beds with curtains hitched up around them and a small desk at which a man is sitting, reading a book. There’s one other boy in the infirmary, an ice pack resting on what looks to be his ankle; he waves shyly when Jeno enters behind Coach Lee. 

The man at the desk looks up when they enter, giving them a friendly smile and closing his book. 

“What do we have here?” He asks. His voice is deep and very soft, and Jeno can understand why he works in the medical field because he seems to radiate calm. 

“I’m sick,” Jeno tells him very helpfully, “at least, I think.” 

“So it would seem,” the man says, laughing quietly, “let’s get you checked out, then.” Jeno nods vaguely, his head still pounding. 

“I’m going to go check on the rest of you hooligans,” Coach Lee tells him, tapping him on the shoulder, “I’ll be back. If you end up needing to go home, I can have Doyoung or somebody drive you, ‘kay?”

Once Coach leaves, the nice nurse man tells Jeno to take a seat on one of the beds, and disappears into a back room for a moment. Jeno is left staring at the blank white ceiling of the infirmary, lying down because it feels better.

“ _Hey._ ” Somebody whispers, “ _Are you alive?_ ”

Jeno shifts to the source of the voice, turning to face the boy he’d seen earlier. He has wide eyes and freckles dusted across his nose, and in contrast to Jeno’s sluggish mood, his fingers are anxiously playing with the hem of his shirt; it looks like he’s practically itching to stand up, run around, do _something._

“Yeah,” Jeno mumbles, unsure of how this boy can be so energetic while he himself feels like sinking into the ground and letting the earth claim him. “Unfortunately.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” the boy says, bobbing his head vigorously, “just making sure. I’m Felix, by the way.” Felix has a very deep voice that doesn’t really fit his sweet features; it reminds Jeno of the year they came back from summer break and discovered that Yukhei’s had dropped approximately two whole octaves. 

“Jeno.” He says, his throat hurting too much to say any more. 

“Hi Jeno,” Felix says, “I like that name! It’s a good name, “ he informs him. “I can guess why you’re here, but do you wanna know why I’m here?” Jeno shrugs noncommittally. “I’ll take that as a yes,” Felix says, “so I was warming up with the rest of my team- we’re the Wolves, by the way- and I was playing catch with Seungmin, Seungmin’s our third baseman by the way, and he threw the ball too far, and so I ran to try to catch it anyways, and then,” he exhales dramatically, “I fell in a hole.”

“A hole?” Jeno manages to ask, surprised.

“Yup!” Felix confirms animatedly. “Not a big one or anything, but enough to uh, sprain my ankle, apparently. Kinda sucks, but I also feel kinda cool. It hurts though.” 

* * *

Jeno ends up at home, holed up in his bedroom, his head pounding and his body temperature fluctuating horribly. It’s just a cold, but it still has a peculiar way of draining the energy from his body, and all he can bring himself to do is wrap himself in a blanket and watch videos on his phone. His bag he’d brought to the training camp sits sadly in the corner of his room; he hadn’t even lasted a day. 

He’s half asleep when he hears a knock on the door, and subsequently hears his mother’s voice as she answers it; he recognizes the other voice that answers her, but he can’t quite place it. Then there are footsteps climbing up the stairs, and there’s a gentle knock on his door. 

“Come in?” He says, wondering who it might be.

He’s sufficiently surprised when it turns out to be Renjun who steps inside, giving Jeno one look (Jeno’s reminded, with a jolt, of exactly how terrible he must look) and frowns deeply. 

“The irony of this situation,” Renjun muses as he walks in, “is impeccable.” 

“Don’t remind me,” Jeno groans. He pauses; Renjun has a familiar-looking bundle in his hands and what looks to be a thermos. The easy grin on his face, perhaps leftover from having to speak with Jeno’s mother on the way inside, fades slightly, and he stands awkwardly in the doorway. “How did you even know I was home?”

“Jaemin told me,” he admits, shrugging. He lingers in the doorway. “This is yours,” He blurts out, passing him the jacket, “and this is soup. I didn’t make it,” he adds quickly, “my brother did.” He hands Jeno the thermos, and Jeno frowns. 

“He didn’t have to do that. But thanks,” he adds with a smile, “a lot.” 

“He wanted to, don’t worry.” Renjun begins to loosen up, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. “He likes you, I think. And he likes cooking, so it works out fine.”

Jeno pauses, confused, Maybe it’s the fever, but he doesn’t ever remember meeting Renjun’s brother. When he voices this, Renjun freezes, his mouth falling open just a bit. 

“Well, um.” (Renjun never hesitates, Renjun never stutters). He readjusts his glasses, brushes his hair back into place. “I guess I must have told him about you, then.”

“Enough for him to willingly make me _soup_ ?” Jeno coaxes, teasing despite the way his traitorous heart has kicked up and run off on him. He thinks that the slight delirium and the exhaustion (or maybe the cough medicine? He hadn’t had his contacts in when he tried to measure it out, so he very well could be a little _loopy_ at the moment) might also be making him bolder than usual, less likely to trip over his words as he speaks.

“It would seem so, yeah.” Renjun shifts on his feet. “Kun’s very hospitable like that.”

“I bet he is,” Jeno agrees, admiring the way Renjun decided to own up to. . . whatever he just owned up to. Jeno’s not very sure. But he’ll call it a win anyways, because he gets some free homemade soup out of it, and he gets to notice that the tops of Renjun’s ears are suspiciously pink. 

“That’s all I came here for,” Renjun says, his expression back to careful blank, “so-”

“Wait, uh, no, don’t,” Jeno stammers, “or- do, if you want, but I, uh, you- you can, could, you could stay.” So his smoothness lasted about thirty seconds, so what, it’s better than _zero_ seconds. He watches, curiously, as Renjun’s expression relaxes, the guards fall from his demeanor, the steeliness in his eyes visibly softens. It’s like that more and more often (he’d prefer it was never like that, but they’re getting there, he thinks). 

“Okay.” 

Bongsik purrs happily when Renjun sits down on the edge of Jeno’s bed; Jeno is fairly certain she likes Renjun more than she likes him, at this point. Jeno turns his newly returned jacket over in his hands, suddenly reminded of the image of Renjun wearing it, of that one picture still in their chat history, an invisible but omnipresent reminder. 

Not now, he resolves in a slight panic, setting the jacket aside, he can deal with those feelings _later._

“This kind of sucks, doesn’t it?” Renjun says thoughtfully. “You just being stuck here, all alone. When do they come back again?” 

“Monday,” Jeno shrugs, “it’s not so bad. My head hurts so much I don’t feel like walking from my bedroom to the fridge, much less run around and play, so I’m probably better off.” His throat still really hurts, but he also really likes talking with Renjun, so it’s a worthy sacrifice to make. “Besides,” he adds, “it’s not all that lonely. I have my cat, and like, Johnny. And,” he stutters, “and you.” 

“And me,” Renjun repeats blankly, before going through something that looks like a system reboot, his mouth falling into a soft ‘o’ shape and then turning up just slightly at the corners. “I-”

Jeno’s phone rings, startling them both. _Caller ID: Na Jaemin,_ it says; Jeno shows it to Renjun, who shrugs very helpfully, and eventually decides that Jaemin most likely won’t give up until he answers anyways. 

“ _JENO!_ ” Jeno physically jerks the phone away from his ear as soon as what sounds like Yangyang’s shrill yell. “ _Are you alive?_ ” Renjun covers his mouth to suppress a snort of laughter, either at Yangyang or at Jeno’s surprise, or maybe both. 

“Yeah,” he tells him, putting the phone on speaker so that he can set it down on the bed, “is everybody there?”

“ _The entire clown car, yes,”_ Jaemin’s voice says, apparently having reclaimed his phone, “ _Jeno, baby, you sound pretty bad. Have you had enough water? Are you sleeping? Have you-”_

 _“Stop nagging him, I’m sure he’s fine,_ ” Donghyuck drawls from somewhere in the background, “ _you know, you’re probably better off at home! We ran like, four miles today, we all nearly died.”_

 _“I had an asthma attack!”_ Sungchan announces, sounding a little too proud for that kind of thing.

“ _Yeah, and Coach almost passed out because of it,_ ” Jisung adds, “ _next thing you know, he’ll have a heart attack ‘cause one of us gets a papercut._ ” 

Jeno can’t help but laugh and smile as the team recounts what he’s missed at the training camp so far; he doesn’t even have time to feel disappointed about it, because the way they retell it is so animated and so endearing, and their genuine concern for him, barring Jaemin’s _very_ thorough interrogation on his health, shows through too, somehow. When he glances up, he finds Renjun looking at him with something that seems strangely fond, content to quietly listen in on the team’s storytelling. 

“Oh yeah, say hi to Renjun, everybody.”

“ _HI RENJUN!_ ” Renjun startles at the overwhelmingly loud response.

“ _You’d better take care of Jeno for us, his life is in your hands,_ ” Jaemin says very seriously. 

“It is an honor,” Renjun replies, equally as serious. Jaemin laughs over the phone.

There’s some noise in the background, and some talking that Jeno can’t discern.

“ _Okay, Coach is calling for us,_ ” Jaemin says, “ _he feels terrible that you’re sick, I think he might retire now, you’ve traumatized him that badly._ ”

“He can’t retire, he’s like, twenty something.” Jeno rolls his eyes. “Go on, go play,” he tells them, glancing at Renjun, “I’m perfectly fine over here.” 

“ _If you say so._ ”

“ _You’d better get better soon,_ ” Sungchan threatens, “ _we miss you, and also my legs hurt like hell from filling in for you._ ” 

“I’ll try.” 

“ _Coach looks like he’s gonna combust,_ ” Jaemin informs him, “ _I’m gonna hang up now._ ”

There’s a chorus of enthusiastic goodbyes that continue on in increasing volume until Jaemin finally hangs up, leaving Jeno and Renjun in silence. Jeno sighs, the content smile refusing to leave him fully even after the call, even though the sheer amount of _yelling_ had made his headache flare up again; he feels _cared for,_ albeit somewhat aggressively cared for, but it means _something_ nonetheless. 

Renjun clears his throat. “I also wanted to show you something.” He sort of pauses, as if awaiting confirmation that Jeno would like to be shown the thing, so Jeno nods. “Can I pull it up on your laptop?”

“Sure.” 

Renjun slips off of the edge of the bed and grabs Jeno’s laptop from his desk, Bongsik persistently following her new favorite human as he goes.

Jeno can see that Renjun’s proud of his work in the way that his eyes shine, in the way that he’s eager to show it to him. He ends up sitting beside Jeno on the bed instead of on the edge like before, the sudden proximity slightly dizzying but welcome all the same, the laptop balanced on his lap as he types something into the search bar. 

Jeno squints at the page he pulls up (his glasses are on his bedside table and he doesn’t feel like reaching for them) and manages to make out the headline:

_**PROMISING SEASON AHEAD: HIGH SCHOOL BASEBALL TEAM STARTS OFF STRONG** _

And beneath it is a little photo of what he thinks is Mark, mid-pitch. 

“How did you even get that picture?” He asks.

“I have a photographer friend, I snuck him in once.” Renjun shrugs. 

Jeno really wishes he was more awake right now, but he has to stifle an involuntary yawn anyways; Renjun quirks an eyebrow at him. 

“I see you’re as excited as I am.” There’s no real bite to his sarcasm. 

“No, no, it’s just,” Jeno shakes his head, “sickness. Tired. You know?” Renjun snorts, but nods. “Read it to me,” Jeno suggests, “m’tired, and my glasses are. . .” he gestures vaguely, “too far. Can’t see shit anyways.”

Renjun huffs a soft laugh. “If you say so,” he says, and settles back onto the pillows a little bit; Jeno’s bed is wide enough that they don’t have to like, you know, _touch_ or anything. Because Jeno wouldn’t want to give Renjun the cold he has, of course. 

Jeno learns when Renjun begins to read that his voice is very soft, almost melodic, and it has such a soothing quality that he has a hard time staying awake at all; he wants Renjun to know that he’s really interested and he’s listening, but at the same time his eyes feel sort of heavy, and he fights to stay conscious. He’d explain himself if he could, but he doesn’t think that _I just like listening to your voice it’s weirdly calming_ is a good enough excuse, nor does he think he’d be able to stutter it out in the first place.

So he doesn’t really notice, when he drifts off, until he finds himself in a dream. 

Or at least, he thinks he’s dreaming, because in what other world would a gentle hand brush the hair from his forehead, lingering there for a split second too long?

Jeno hears a soft sigh from somewhere far away. 

“Unbelievable,” Renjun murmurs from that same far away place, “you're unbelievable, Lee Jeno.” 

Jeno can hear the smile in his voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jeno's series of unfortunate events pt. 1
> 
> sports headlines are so goddamn cringe i hate it. how can anybody take a sports article headline seriously. shameful.


	8. "Woah, so like, necromancy."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> in which donghyuck nearly fights a guy but like what else is new, jeno literally just pines unnecessarily he literally just no thoughts head renjun but like ha same bro, yukhei (momentarily) loses a loved one, jungwoo has Two jobs which are annoying dejun and knocking things over (which usually also annoys dejun), and renjun is a man full of secret abilities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THE AMOUNT OF TIMES I REWROTE THIS IS EMBARRASSING IF I DONT FINISH TONIGHT I AM THROWING A FIT (spoiler i did finish it tonight through the sheer power of will alone). as per the damn usual this is a no beta, 3 am update, i changed these scenes so many times im sorry if theyre kinda weird :/

Jeno sits with his back against the wall, only half-paying attention to what’s going on in front of him, the repetitive clang of a bat hitting a ball occasionally punctuating his thoughts. 

With nothing better to do on a Thursday afternoon, a few days having passed since the rest of the team returned from the training camp and a suspicious lack of homework leaving them with some free time, Jeno, Jaemin and Donghyuck had resolved to visit the local batting cages. It’s not Jeno’s turn to do anything at the moment, since they only rented out one space, so he watches for the time being, itching to play after so many days of being cooped up at home. 

“Hell yeah, Hyuckie!” Jaemin cheers, loading baseball after baseball into the pitching machine, the kind that Jeno used to be terrified of when he was younger because it’s loud and scary and shoots out baseballs like it’s specifically trying to kill you. He still kind of _is_ scared of it, come to think of it. “Get _angry_ at the ball, dude, you _annihilate_ that baseball!” Jaemin whoops.

Jeno observes Donghyuck through the protective netting separating them, watching him shoulder his bat as Jaemin loads another ball into the machine. Donghyuck is one of their strongest hitters, and Jaemin _does_ have a point. He swings the bat like it’s a weapon, with almost terrifying precision and speed, like he really _is_ trying to annihilate the ball. It’s an interesting side of Donghyuck, far more cutting-edge and calculating than his usual self. 

The thing about Donghyuck is that he’s blunt not in the rude way, and not in the peculiarly honest way (the Renjun way, Jeno’s mind supplies) either; it’s more that he doesn’t try to hide his emotions, he never has. The question is never _how_ Donghyuck is feeling, because that’s always plain to see; it’s more exactly _what_ he’s feeling, because although he can see it, he sure as hell can’t usually understand it. 

So it’s always a little odd, the stony expression that he takes on when he’s batting. Unsettling, just a little bit. Jeno always wonders what he’s thinking about. 

He scrolls through his phone while he waits, tuning out Jaemin’s increasingly specific encouragements and willing away the faint suggestion of a headache that remains, leftover from his cold. He opens his chat with Renjun, stares at the word _ok_ and a moderately blurry photo he’d taken of the countryside from the bus window, and then closes it again. Renjun’s not much of a texter, apparently, which Jeno understands. But coincidentally, he hasn’t so much as seen him ever since the day he’d returned the jacket, among other things. 

Among other things indeed, Jeno thinks. He can still feel the phantom sensation of Dream-Renjun’s fingers carding softly through his hair, if he tries hard enough. He doesn’t dare assume it _wasn’t_ a dream, anyways, because then he wouldn’t know what to think. 

Realistically, it makes sense not to see Renjun. They don’t share any classes, and they do different extracurriculars, _and_ Jeno’s been sick all week long. But he’s somehow become an odd constant in his life these past few weeks, and maybe Jeno’s overreacting to his absence, but something feels off without him. 

“Hey,” Donghyuck’s voice cuts into his thoughts, “hello, Jeno? Knock knock?” He taps his knuckles lightly on Jeno’s temple. 

Jeno bats his hand away, tilting his head back so that he can look at Donghyuck, who's leaning down because Jeno’s still on the floor. “Sorry,” he mumbles, “what?” 

“Are you okay?” Donghyuck frowns. “You’re kind of spacey today, dude.” Then he glances down at the still-opened chat on Jeno’s phone and he smirks. “Oh, that’ll do it.” 

“What’ll do it?” Jaemin pokes his head around the netting to interrupt, halfway through picking up the stray balls Donghyuck had hit. 

“Jeno has a crush,” Donghyuck explains, ignoring when Jeno slaps him on the arm. 

“Oh, we all already knew _that._ ” Jaemin shrugs. 

“I- you-” Jeno splutters, “what?” 

“Jeno, babe, you’re a little oblivious, but you’re not stupid.” Jaemin grins at him. “It’s okay, we’re known for being very mature about this kind of thing. Right?” 

“Right,” Donghyuck agrees. 

“I really, really doubt that.” Jeno mumbles, “And besides, I don’t have a crush.” He _doesn’t._

“Uh-huh, and Donghyuck isn’t in l-”

Donghyuck slaps a hand over Jaemin’s mouth, eyes suddenly blazing. “I _said_ that was between me and you _only,_ ” he warns lowly.

“Uh, okay,” Jeno says, taking the opportunity to steer the conversation away from his relationship with Renjun, “is it my turn to bat yet?” 

“No way, it’s mine,” Jaemin cuts in, pulling Donghyuck’s hand off of his mouth to protest, “I didn’t just pick up fifty balls for nothing.” 

“Can I at least shoot them at you?” Jeno asks hopefully. 

“Of _course_.”

Eventually, their time runs out, so the three of them pack up their things and leave the batting cages, Jeno feeling better about the time he’d taken off now that he’s gotten some practice in. 

“I’m hungry,” Jaemin announces as they step outside, into the warm, late afternoon air. The parking lot is mostly empty at the time of day, bathed in a gentle golden glow, and so Jaemin freely skips ahead of them across the pavement, pirouetting once, twice, just because he can.

“Damn, you still have that down,” Donghyuck comments, hanging back with Jeno. 

“I don’t know how!” Jaemin exclaims brightly, “I quit ballet like, four years ago!” 

Jeno laughs, veering into Donghyuck just enough that their shoulders bump together, so that he can feel him laughing too. Jaemin has that peculiar way of making everything _better_ for not much reason other than he just emits this sort of light, despite all of his quirks, that’s very distinctly his own. 

They’re all so distracted that they barely notice the group of kids walking in the opposite direction, and Jaemin is so occupied with his spinning that he trips and barrels right into one of them.

“Oh, shit, sorry,” Jaemin stammers, suddenly very small, “I didn’t see you, sorry.” 

The boy he’d run into is bigger than him, holding a bag over his shoulder and glaring down at him with a hard stare. He scowls at Jaemin for a moment before shoving past him wordlessly, his friends following close behind. 

“Asshole,” Donghyuck growls, trying to step in front of the group to prevent them from leaving, “what was that for?”

“Just leave it be,” Jaemin says quietly, “it’s whatever.” Jeno puts a hand on his shoulder consolingly, noting the vague glassiness in his eyes, knowing he _hates_ confrontation more than anybody else on the team. 

Donghyuck knows this too, hesitating before settling on returning the guy’s scowl with equal fury and leaving it at that. Jeno watches the group of boys retreat, snickering amongst themselves, and feels a brief flash of frustration. They’re heading to the batting cages, so obviously they play baseball, but Jeno’s never seen them before- he hopes he’ll never have to see them again. 

The three of them stand in the middle of the parking lot, Jeno rubbing small circles into Jaemin’s shoulder and Donghyuck shifting uncomfortably on his feet. It’s still such a nice evening out, Jeno thinks blandly, the setting sun starting to the sky soft orange; he wishes that Jaemin was still skipping, that Donghyuck was still laughing. 

“Still hungry?” He asks meekly. He thinks there might be a decent ice cream place somewhere nearby. When he mentions this, Jaemin regains some of the pep in his step. 

“I’m _always_ hungry for ice cream,” he announces, and that’s that. 

* * *

Later, after they’ve split off to their respective homes, content and full and having all but forgotten the incident earlier, Jeno sits at his desk in his bedroom, staring down an essay he’s supposed to be writing. His phone sits on the desk next to him, face down because he’s determinedly ignoring it, and instead fixing a glare at his computer screen. He has his name typed in and that’s about it. 

Bongsik leaps deftly up onto the desk, hitting him in the face with her tail and stepping on his keyboard so his paper now reads ‘ _hhhhhfjsjsjdkkkjjjkkhjfgahhd’_ which is more than _he_ could think to say, anyways, so maybe she’s onto something. 

If Jeno looks out the window situated nearby, he can look directly into Jaemin’s bedroom and see him working on the exact same essay, looking just as lost as he is. Which might be creepy, but then again, Jaemin was spying enough to see him walk Renjun home that one time, so Jeno supposes they cancel out. 

Jeno’s phone vibrates. He glances at it, halfway through deleting Bongsik’s contribution to his paper. 

It’s most likely the team, he reasons, which means it’ll be senseless rambling or ranting that he doesn’t need to hear. 

It could also be Renjun, a small part of him suggests. (He backtracks for a moment, wondering when he’d gotten _that_ hopeful about talking with him. Then he decides to justify it with the fact that Jeno likes to hear from _all_ of his friends because Jeno is a very friendly and very loving kind of guy and not at all for other reasons). 

He picks it up anyways, because he’s weak, and is surprised to find a single message from Yukhei. 

“ _Emergency team meeting right now,_ ” it says, plain and simple, in the team’s group chat. One more message pops up beneath it, from Mark. “ _where?_ ” Yukhei simply says at his place, and Jeno frowns, something plummeting in his stomach. 

Emergency meetings are nothing to joke about. This is a rule that’s been present since Jeno first joined, and there are exactly three rules according to the very official Team Neos Constitution scribbled in the back of Mark’s old geometry notebook, the page torn out and tacked up haphazardly on his bedroom wall:

**Rule One** : _Only_ call an emergency meeting if there’s an _actual_ emergency. Examples of emergencies include death and injury and news that absolutely cannot wait until the next practice or something.

 **Rule Two** : If you date each other, at least don’t hate each other when you break up. (This rule was established after Donghyuck and Jaemin kissed exactly once, by accident, in their freshman year and then had a subsequent argument over it). 

**Rule Three** : Leaving your position spontaneously to pat a dog in the stands is never okay. Yes this is directed at you Yukhei. I don’t care how cute and fluffy it is, it can wait.

There has only ever been one emergency meeting in all of Jeno’s years of playing baseball, and that was because Jaemin had broken his ankle and nobody knew whether he’d be able to play anymore. So Jeno thinks it’s justified to be a little concerned about what has rattled Yukhei enough to call for one. 

He glances up and meets Jaemin’s eyes through the window, and with a form of telepathy practiced and honed over the years, they both rise from their desks at the same time. 

“Mom,” Jeno calls as he pulls on a hoodie, “I need to go out for a bit.”

“Why?” Her voice floats up faintly from downstairs. 

“Yukhei says there’s an emergency,” he supplies, hoping it’ll be enough. It _is_ dark and it _is_ a Thursday night, but his mother likes Yukhei. 

There’s a sudden knock on the door, and Jeno knows exactly who it is. He bounds down the stairs and answers it, opening the door to Jaemin, who has his shoes on but untied like he tends to do in a rush and an uncharacteristic serious look on his face. The fact that he _knocked_ was uncharacteristic enough in itself, but even so. 

“Yukhei called an emergency,” Jaemin breathes in place of a greeting. 

Jeno’s mother is halfway through working, things spread out on the kitchen table, doing lawyer-y things that Jeno has given up on understanding. She peers over the edge of her laptop at them, glancing between their equally worried expressions, and sighs heavily.

“Fine,” she says, sympathizing with them, “but be home before ten, okay?” Jeno nods vigorously, already halfway out the door. “Jaemin, make sure he’s home on time.”

“Will do, Ms. Lee.” Jaemin says, saluting her before pulling Jeno outside.

“You’re kidding me.”

This is what Donghyuck says once they’ve all arrived, crowding beneath the stars at the front of Yukhei’s house. Yukhei looks like he is most definitely _not_ kidding, his tall stature a little slumped, his hands stuffed into his sweatshirt pockets and his eyes round and watery. Donghyuck and Jisung had tumbled out of Mark’s car a few moments prior, rushing to join the rest of them where they’re huddled together on Yukhei’s driveway. 

It’s nighttime, of course, and so they’re standing huddled in Yukhei’s driveway, the porch lights on the front of his house cutting through the darkness and casting them all in rather dramatic shadow. Donghyuck looks like he might’ve been sleeping, his hair tousled and his eyes tired, and Sungchan is wearing a pair of pajama pants with stegosauruses patterned on them.

Donghyuck stares at Yukhei with incredulity, as if he genuinely can’t believe what’s happening. 

“You called an _emergency meeting,_ ” he restates, awfully seriously, “because your piece of shit car finally decided to kick the bucket?”

They’d arrived to find Yukhei standing alone in his driveway, pacing rapidly next to his car and looking distressed. At first it had been confusing, but Jeno understood after Yukhei explained his so-called emergency, and quietly, he agrees with Donghyuck. He won’t voice that thought, though; even _he_ wouldn’t want to upset Yukhei further, not with his trembling pout and his watery eyes. 

“Cheryl is not a piece of shit,” Yukhei sniffles. He places a hand on the hood of his car, staring off into the distance for a moment. “She was a dear friend,” he continues, “she taught me how to drive. We’ve been through so much together. . .”

“I’m sorry, dude,” Mark says solemnly, placing a hand on Yukhei’s shoulder; Jeno can’t tell if he’s playing along for Yukhei’s sake, or if he’s genuinely sad, because both are very Mark things to do. 

Yukhei inhales deeply, tilting his head up to turn his eyes to the sky. The effect is somewhat dampened by the fact that Jisung has fallen asleep on Yangyang’s shoulder, but he doesn’t seem to notice. “Today,” he begins, “we mourn the death of a loved one. I-”

“Are we having an impromptu funeral for a car?” Jeno asks; Jaemin holds back a snicker.

“ _Yes,_ ” Yukhei says, and then continues, folding his hands in front of him. “Think of all she’s done for us,” he continues, rubbing his eyes, “driven us to so many practices. . . to so many games. . . really the heart and soul of our team,” he laments. 

“ _That’s_ objective,” Donghyuck mutters, making Mark glare at him from where he’s still rubbing Yukhei’s shoulder encouragingly. 

Yukhei is unable to continue, because a trio of boys rounds the corner, talking rapidly amongst themselves. Jeno recognizes Dejun’s loud voice first, then a second later Renjun’s softer one, and then Jungwoo’s easy drawl. 

“Oh, hey,” he says to the three of them, “what are you guys doing out so late?” 

“Play rehearsal,” Dejun explains, “it always runs stupidly late. What are _you_ all doing out so late?” Jeno realizes that they’re probably the weirder party of the two, standing in a circle in Yukhei’s driveway in the dark, mourning the death of a car. 

“Holding a funeral,” Sungchan replies. The three newcomers simultaneously raise their eyebrows, understandably. Jeno doesn’t know why he’s still here either. 

“I’m,” Renjun says, shooting Jeno a confused glance, “sorry for your loss?” Jeno is almost embarrassingly glad to see him. He looks tired, but he seems to glow in the soft light emanating from Yukhei’s front porch, the half-amused question in his gaze lingering on Jeno for a moment longer. There’s a smudge of something on his cheek- it looks blue, weirdly, so Jeno thinks it must be paint- that makes him look rumpled in a soft sort of way.

“The car is the loss,” Donghyuck explains, exasperatedly moving to sit on the ground instead of standing, “we’re aware it’s. . . unconventional.”

“Oh, what,” Renjun says, eyes lighting up oddly, “what’s wrong with it?”

Yukhei shrugs, frowning deeply, “ She just quit on me. I got in earlier and the engine wouldn’t start. I guess it’s just her time to go.” He pats the car again, the hollow hood making a soft, metallic _bonk_ noise. 

“Let me try something.” 

Jeno glances at Renjun curiously, impressed by the steadfast assuredness in his tone. Yukhei nods slowly, hope glimmering in his eyes. 

“You’re gonna bring her back?” He asks. 

“Woah,” Sungchan mutters, “so like, necromancy.”

“I can try,” Renjun admits, rolling up his sleeves. “No guarantees, though. Do you have any jumper cables?”

“Jumper what?” 

Renjun sighs, and Jeno has a feeling he wasn’t anticipating how long this process was going to take. He tells Jungwoo and Dejun to go on without him, and so they do, though not before giving the entire baseball team one last, judgemental look. 

He finds himself watching Renjun effortlessly take charge of the situation, locating Yukhei’s missing cables and opening up the hood of the car. Honestly, Jeno has no idea what he’s doing either, but he doesn’t mind observing; Renjun acquires this soft sort of pout when he works, his fingers deftly fiddling the cables and his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. 

“Let’s get you some water, or, uh, something, man,” Mark says to Yukhei, gently leading him inside the house to do just that. Jeno watches them go. He’s not entirely sure why Yukhei can be so attached to his car, as ugly and dusty and awfully maroon as it is, but he supposes he can kind of understand; it’s like that time Jaemin lost that friendship bracelet Jeno had made him half as a joke in the third grade, and had maybe cried when he admitted he’d lost it (Jeno hadn’t remembered making it, but he pretended to, for Jaemin’s sake). He also isn’t sure when the car had gained the name _Cheryl,_ but it did, and maybe that’s why Yukhei is so attached?

“Hey, Mark,” Renjun calls out as soon as Mark and Yukhei return, Yukhei looking slightly less upset than before, “I need to use your car too.” 

“Are you gonna break it?” Mark asks warily.

“I mean, I _hope_ not,” Renjun says, “but it’s required.”

“Do it for Cheryl,” Yukhei begs Mark, his eyes watering again, “ _please,_ Markie?”

If there’s one thing Mark Lee can’t resist, it’s apparently Yukhei, so he sighs and tosses his keys to Renjun. “Fine, just be careful. It’s already gonna take me ten years just to pay that thing off.”

Renjun had mentioned something about his hand eye coordination not being up to speed, but Jeno’s happens to be fantastic, so he manages to step in and catch the keys before they fly over Renjun’s head. His hobbies sort of revolve around him being able to catch Mark’s pitches, so really it’s expected of him at this point. 

“Thanks,” Renjun says quietly when Jeno hands him the keys, giving him a curious look before taking off to do whatever he needs to do to Mark’s car in order to fix Yukhei’s. 

“What are you doing?” Jeno asks, curiously trailing behind him. 

“Jumpstarting the battery,” Renjun explains patiently, “at least, hopefully. I’m assuming it died.” 

“Right,” Jeno says, nodding along as if he has even the slightest notion as to what Renjun is talking about, “are you secretly like, an automobile buff, or am I just an idiot?”

“Neither,” Renjun hums, clipping some more cables to something in Mark’s car, “and you’re not an idiot, Jeno.” He says it with plain sincerity, but it takes Jeno aback because he’d been joking, for the most part. “My brother worked at an auto shop for a while, so he knows this kind of thing. I guess he thought it’d be useful for me to know, too.” Renjun shrugs, not looking up. 

“I hear a lot about this brother of yours,” Jeno says thoughtfully. _And he’s apparently heard a lot about me,_ he adds silently. “I’ve never met him.”

Renjun pauses his work, glancing up at Jeno. “Would you want to?” 

“I mean,” Jeno shrugs, “he sounds cool.”

Renjun laughs, as if the idea of Kun being cool is so far-fetched that it’s funny. Jeno likes it when Renjun laughs, because it melts away the stiffness he tends to carry with him for a while, softens the ferocity in his eyes, because it’s this sort of soft and airy noise that Jeno thinks is vaguely musical. He doesn’t _laugh_ laugh, not like the Mark Lee falling-onto-the-nearest-person-and-guffawing kind of laugh or Donghyuck’s cackle, but he laughs all the same and Jeno always appreciates it. 

His eye catches once again on the smudge of paint on Renjun’s cheek. “You have,” he says faintly, not sure why he cares so much at all, “something, on your face.” He taps his own cheek indicatively. 

“Oh, yeah.” Renjun brings a hand up to his face, frowning. “I was painting set pieces earlier, which gets kind of messy, especially when you have Jungwoo knocking things over every five minutes.” He smiles at the thought, but he’s conveniently attempted to wipe the paint from the wrong place.

“No, uh, right uh,” Jeno says, “there.” And then, in a lapse of judgement he’ll blame on his tiredness, he decides to do it himself, very quickly swiping his thumb across Renjun’s cheek.

Any reply Renjun had ready to voice catches in his throat, and Jeno feels immediately both mortified and surprised for a few reasons. One, Renjun is simply _looking_ at him in that way he always does, his mouth parted in soft surprise and the porch lights reflecting brilliantly in his eyes, his hands frozen on the cables held in them. And two, Jeno hadn’t even helped at all; the paint is just _more_ smudged now, and there’s a bit of it staining the pad of his thumb, too. 

“I,” Jeno says uselessly, “I, I’m sorry.”

Renjun’s somewhat dazed expression breaks, and he turns back to his work, biting down on his bottom lip. “Don’t be sorry,” he says, a note of something odd in his voice, “I’ll get it off when I get home.” 

“Right,” Jeno replies awkwardly, and wanders off to check on the rest of the team. Yukhei is watching Renjun anxiously, Mark faithfully by his side, and Jaemin, Donghyuck, and Yangyang are sitting in a circle and discussing something that sounds conspiratorial, to say the least. Sungchan and Jisung are sitting on the lawn, mostly bathed in shadow, Jisung still half asleep on Sungchan’s shoulder. Sungchan is staring up at the clear nighttime sky, pointing out stars to Jisung and explaining them in a hushed voice, looking so quietly passionate about it it makes Jeno smile to himself. 

Then, inevitably, he wanders right back to Renjun, who’s just about finished whatever he’s doing. Jeno hangs back while he instructs Mark to start up his car and then Yukhei to follow suit, the two engines connected by a tangle of cables.

Yukhei looks unconvinced as he slides into the driver’s seat, a faint frown still on his face. Still, he follows Renjun’s commands, turning his key into the ignition and waiting.

Against all odds, Cheryl roars to life, headlights flickering on and momentarily blinding Jeno. 

“Oh my God,” Yukhei exclaims, heartily patting the car’s dashboard before vaulting out of his seat, “dude, you’re a genius!” And then he proceeds to pick Renjun up and squeeze him into a hug, spinning around once before setting him back down. There’s a series of faint cheers from the rest of the team, not too loud because it’s nighttime and everybody else is sleeping. 

Renjun takes a moment to regain his bearings, rubbing his arm almost shyly. “It’s not such a big deal,” he mumbles, “I’m happy to do it. And you should probably still get it checked out by a professional.” He adds. 

“Can we go home now?” Donghyuck asks loudly. 

“Nobody ever said you couldn’t,” Yukhei points out before tuning back to Renjun, placing hand on his shoulder. His eyes shine in that earnest, very Yukhei manner, round and innocent-looking despite the rest of his, often misleading, appearance. “How can I thank you, dude?” 

“You don’t have to,” Renjun replies, tilting his chin up a significant amount in order to meet Yukhei’s eyes, “it’s fine, you’re a- you’re a friend.” He sounds like he’s not so sure, but Yukhei has other ideas, enveloping him in another crushing hug before stepping back, almost tearful again. 

“Hell yeah you are, little dude,” he says, his voice watery. Jeno stifles a laugh. 

The team disperses, Mark loading a sleeping Jisung followed by a very _close_ to being asleep Sungchan into his car after comforting Yukhei one last time. Ten shows up briefly to snatch Yangyang away, and Jeno doesn’t know Mandarin but he knows he’s scolding him again. Jaemin and Donghyuck disappear, and Jeno has a sneaking suspicion that it’s because they want to leave him alone with Renjun. 

This indeed leaves Jeno alone with Renjun, standing in the pool of light provided by Yukhei’s porch lights, beneath the stars and the moon. The smudge of paint is still present on Renjun’s cheek, but Jeno elects to ignore it, for fear of another disaster. 

“So,” Renjun says, shifting from foot to foot. 

“So,” Jeno agrees. 

“Weird night,” Renjun sighs, half to himself. Jeno hums in agreement. “Let’s walk home, then?” Renjun asks, and Jeno’s stomach does a sort of flip over the way he lumps their two ideas of _home_ together. He glances at Jeno, the corner of his mouth turning up just a little. His voice, though quiet and directed solely at Jeno, carries in the sudden emptiness of the night.

“Yeah,” Jeno agrees, grinning in return, “let’s go.”

And they do. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dont even ASK me what this chapter is. if you read it, no you didn't. the paint scene made me soft tho so. jeno's favorite word to use is "uh". this stupid car incident was like the first instance i came up with because yukhei, size: tall boy lifting up renjun, size: small boy in just pure excitement is so funny to me. also chenle stans i got you he's coming soon im sorry for his 35k words of complete absence :( 2sung has become my accidental favorite ship even tho their chemistry relies solely on how ive written them to be, i am crying theyre so soft. also yukhei is jus a bug cuddly softie i dont take constructive criticism.


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